Laughter and the Love
by foxredwinter
Summary: After the fame fades, life goes on. Hermione teaches, Ron has moments of insight, and Harry takes after Ron.
1. Prelude

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (tragic). All I have is imagination, a bit of time, and a plot. _

A/N: As is quite obvious from the start, there are quotes to introduce each section. To the best of my knowledge these are correctly attributed. If you find a mistake, please let me know along with the source so I can make corrections. Also, while this intro may make it serious, I assure all those who appreciate Gred and Forge, that I shall try to live up the their grand example and ensure some humor in this humble story.

* * *

_From quiet homes and first beginning,_

_Out to the undiscovered ends,_

_There's nothing worth the wear of winning,_

_But laughter and the love of friends._

_Hilaire Belloc

* * *

_

We were three children, as different as any three people could be, all embarking on a new and unknown adventure. One came from a huge, loving family knowing his place in the world. One came from a cold house, not a home, not knowing who he was. One came from a different world, eager to make her way and excel. Three lived quiet, expected lives until age eleven. Three children leaving behind what they knew to enter school far away.

We were three children bound by fate to live out great stories. At first, we were strangers, then a touch of animosity, then inseparable. By the dawn of November our first year, the three of us became what would soon be known as the Golden Trio. Our concerns were not yet those of the wizarding world. Even when embroiled in battling evil and fighting wars, what we fought for was so much simpler. We fought for each other. We fought for what we held dear, each other.

We were three children, robbed of our childhood. Caught up in the Second Wizarding War and all the events leading up to it, we did not have the carefree existence most children and youth enjoy. At times, true to our youthful natures we rebelled against that fate. In the end though, we fought evil, not fate. We traveled to the edges of what the world knew and what the human condition could survive. We three saw more in seven years than most see in their lifetimes. We three journeyed, fought, and finally found victory.

That is quite the somber introduction to this story, but it is the truth. Luckily, the darkness passed and we found ourselves in the light. Like the rest of the wizarding world we three were able to live our lives free of fear. We three made our plans and went on with life.

* * *

_Life is what happens to you_

_while you are busy making other plans._

_John Lennon_


	2. Puzzles over Tea

Certain flaws are necessary for the whole.

It would seem strange if old friends lacked certain quirks.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Ten years ago as I struggled threw OWLs, I never thought I would end up having tea weekly in Professor McGonagall's chambers. I never thought I would be able to call her Minerva. However, one thing being part of the Trio taught me is that there are always surprises around the corner. Once the Final Battle was done and Hogwarts needed to return to its full glory and order, Minerva found herself overwhelmed by the duties of Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor. Thus, only three years after graduating and one year of being her assistant, I found myself a full professor at age twenty. The youngest professor in the history of Hogwarts. Did Ron and Harry ever throw a party for that!

At first the weekly tea was a means to assist me as I took on full responsibility for my classes. Then it was to learn how to be Head of House in my second year of teaching. Ron gave me a thorough lecture on the significance of having a superb House Team since Gryffindor had a reputation to uphold. Now that I have adapted to my new duties, the tea is merely a chance for the two of us to chat and share our lives. From my first year as a student Minerva, then Professor McGonagall was a mentor. She remains such, but I find that she has become a friend and a sort of mother or aunt figure to me. Especially as my own family some times has difficulty understanding the world I live in, it is a gift to have someone to share it with and seek advice from.

Many unusual discussions have come from our teas. I love when we talk about the unusual mistakes and minor catastrophes that teaching Transfiguration allows you to witness. Whether it is fuzzy tea cups that were once rats or how there is always that one student who can make their class work explode, Transfiguration is hardly a boring class to teach. The difficulty lies in hiding your amusement so that you can remain in control of the class and not have any of the children's feelings hurt. I discovered Minerva's sense of humor in our teas. As she told tales of Transfigurations gone awry, she would often dissolve into laughter. Many of these stories I found focused on the Marauders. They seemed naturally born to chaos. Then again, a fair share of stories were from my days in school. It seems the Trio provided just as much amusement in the staff room.

On this particular day, not long after the students had left and when professors were leaving for the summer holiday, our conversation took a different route.

"Another biscuit, Hermione?"

"Yes, thank you. Any grand plans now that you are free for a few weeks?" I replied.

"Actually, yes, I will be traveling for a fortnight with some friends to the Mediterranean."

I was a bit surprised. "Really! I can't believe you had not mentioned this before."

"Well, our plans were not confirmed until just a week a go. Hooch's niece was ill so for a while we were going to wait. But her niece recovered and so your former flying professor, transfiguration professor, and herbology professor are going to enjoy a bit of well deserved rest somewhere warm and sunny."

I was still mildly surprised. She never struck me as one to go globe trotting. "I hope you enjoy yourselves. Sounds wonderful. I have always wanted to see Italy and Greece. Send me a postcard."

"Postcard?" she asked, looking a bit puzzled.

"Oh, sorry. They are small cards with photographs on one side and space on the other to write notes. Muggles send them to each other when they go on holiday." I still found myself explaining some Muggle things to Minerva, though she was better versed in Muggle life than many other wizards and witches.

"What are you doing over the holiday?" she quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Not much. I plan on heading to London. You know I stay with Harry and Ron most of the time. I will probably spend a week or so with my parents in their cottage. I always enjoy that time with them. Other than that, just some relaxing quiet time before the time comes to prepare for the new year."

"Hermione, if you expect to have quiet time while staying with those two, you must not be anywhere near as bright as I thought you were." She laughed.

"You're right. You would think that after fourteen years of friendship I would realize life is never quiet or mundane with those two around," I laughed with her.

"You three were quite the handful when you went to school. I was never quite sure whether it was worse when you were fighting or when you got along with each other. You did not cause as much trouble as the Marauders, but trouble seemed to find you. Though I think the three of you were the focus of more speculation and gossip than any other set of students this school had seen."

"What do you mean?"

"I would hope by now you realize how much teachers really know about what goes on and what students are saying. Even when James Potter and Lily Evans were here, there was not as much gossip or speculation on the true nature of their relationship as the three of you. There were bets in all the houses as to who liked who, who would date who, who was jealous of who. The teachers speculated just as much, though a bit more discretely, of course," she went on.

"Please don't let me stop you. What were your thoughts?" I asked, more than a little interested in her thoughts.

"I know that you were most often paired with Ron. At times the way you two fought reminded many of Lily and James Potter. However, there are enough differences between you that I never held to that theory. Then there was Harry, when he was in school he did not need romantic entanglements with all that was being demanded of him. He needed friends. I never chose to voice my thoughts on the matter to anyone then, and I chose not to voice them any more at this point in time." Her voice had a bit of finality to it.

"Do you develop theories about all your students?" I asked, curious to see if I could get some more information from her through some other path.

"Not all, but a good number. After seven years of teaching someone and watching them grow from a child to a young adult, you can see a bit of where they are going and who they might need to go with on that journey," here she paused and looked at me. "One thing I saw that you were well placed with your friends. You, Hermione, need someone who will add a bit of adventure to your life. Someone who will understand you, challenge you, fight with you, and love you in the very unique way you need. You need someone with a bit of spark to them and a bit of a trouble maker, or trouble finder, in them." She smiled softly at me. "That's the last you'll get from me young lady. I believe you need to go pack," she turned back into the formidable Transfiguration Professor I remembered from my first year.

Knowing the conversation was ended we said our goodbyes and I got her to promise to send me a post card. With that I left to my own chambers to finish packing. After a few hours I was ready to go. I charmed my bags to fit in my purse; it makes Flooing so much easier to not carry a trunk with you. Taking a last glance around my chambers, I Flooed to the flat in London.

Being just before the supper hour, I didn't expect to find the boys home yet. They each were quite busy with life. After the end of the War and our graduation we decided, alright, I decided and told the boys, that we needed to make sure we had one day a month that was exclusively for ourselves and we needed to talk via Floo or phone at least once a week. They agreed, after seven years of friendship they knew better than to face my temper or large number of hexes I had learned.

Looking around, I saw what I did each summer. Leaving two boys to take care of themselves for several months with only occasional visits leads to one thing: a messy flat. Quidditch magazines were strewn all over the sofa. Various take out boxes graced the other furniture. I walked to the kitchen, rightfully dreading what I might see. The kitchen was in worse condition with dirty dishes, food turning unusual colors in the refrigerator, and various empty potion bottles lining the counter. Rolling my eyes I continued to the bed rooms. Ron's was even worse than the rest of the house with clothes, Quidditch jerseys, and who knows what else everywhere. Harry's room was a bit neater. I think all those years at the Dursley house were too much to make him nearly as messy as Ron. Then there was my room. Immaculate as you might expect. I pulled my bags from my pocket and returned them to their normal size. I put my clothes away and my books on the shelf. Photos were placed back to their places around the room. I dusted with a quick charm and walked over to the window. I loved the view from my room. Given that we were the Golden Trio we were able to pull quite a few strings to get a spectacular flat that overlooks Diagon Alley. I could see the whole Alley and bits of Muggle London too. I put my things away in the shower. I absolutely required my own shower given that boys have a way of destroying all sense of hygiene. They did not argue as they were intimidated by the prospect of seen 'female items' lying around.

Once my things were arranged I attacked the rest of the house. For two accomplished wizards, keeping things tidy should not be so difficult. A few charms and things were put to rights. At that moment I heard the pop signaling the arrival of Ron or Harry.

"Oi! Where are you?" hollered a deep male voice. I shook my head as Ron entered the kitchen.

"Well, hello to you too!" I replied and gave him a hug.

"Its great to see you again, but you know I'll never be able to find the magazine I was reading now that you cleaned," he complained.

"Honestly, Ron. They are all stacked on the table in chronological order."

He laughed. "Some things never change."

"I may not change, but you desperately need to! You smell horrific!"

"And you were complaining about my greeting. It was just a long day of practice. Nothing to get yourself worked up about. I'll go shower and then we can catch up on life. I think Harry should be home soon. He said it should just be a routine day at the office," he wandered out the kitchen and down the hall.

I started to investigate what the food situation was. It had been a while since tea and I knew that once Ron emerged from cleaning himself up, he would be famished. Like he said, some things never change. Suddenly I was scared out of my wits when I was surrounded by someone's arms.

"Got you!"

"Harry!" while the three of us perfected silent Apparating, we normally allowed for the tell-tale pop so as to not scare each other when we arrived home.

"I figured you would already be here and wanted to see if I could surprise you. I guess I succeeded." I saw his childlike grin as I turned around to give him a proper hug.

"It's great to see you Harry. How are things?"

"The same as always," he shrugged.

"We can talk more later. Why don't you go change? You two are treating me to a celebratory dinner out since there is no food in the house. Ron is showering so I would say you have all of three minutes before he comes in here complaining about how he is fainting with hunger."

I shooed him from the kitchen and then went to change myself. During the school year I do a fair job of presenting myself as a 'professor' – I wear dark colors and clothes anyone over the age of fifty would be happy to own. During my time away from Hogwarts, I live life as a twenty-five year old ought. I shut the door to my room and go figure out what I will wear. A red sundress, leather sandals with a bit of heel, really those two boys are just too tall, and I'm just about ready. Then it is a quick make up charm and something to fix my hair. I pull it down from the braid I had it in and let it fall to my shoulders. A glance, a word and it falls neatly in waves. There are some advantages to being good with charms as well as transfiguration. The bush of hair I was tortured about through my youth is now manageable and even gets the occasional compliments.

Knowing the boys would be ready I head back out to the kitchen. We tend to spend a great deal of our time there when I'm home. Probably because I do a fair amount of cooking and the boys do a fair amount of eating. Ron and Harry are discussing the prospects the Cannons have for the World Cup this year as I walk in.

Ron lets out a whistle and Harry bows, "For what do we owe the honor of your presence fair princess."

"Honestly, you two. You do this every year when I get home. It is just a dress."

"Well, 'Mione, you do seem to take a bit after McGonagall's fashion when you're at school. It is good to see that you still remember you are still young!" Ron so charmingly states.

"Plus we were able to get you to say 'Honestly' twice in the first ten minutes we've seen you. Not a bad start to the summer, eh Ron?"

"No, not bad at all. This should be a good one," Ron replied with his impish grin.

With that the three of us head down to Diagon Alley for dinner. Life was as it should be.


	3. Dinner and Breakfast

_Time is the coin of your life._

_It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent._

_Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you._

_Carl Sandburg_

* * *

The three of us walked through The Leaky Cauldron and out into Muggle London. Each year the first night of my summer holiday was celebrated by going out to the best Italian restaurant in London. We strolled down the streets talking and catching up on life and all the small events that are only of significance to close friends.

Over dinner we got a bit more serious as Harry let loose his frustrations. "I have had it with all the pomp and circumstance at the Ministry. It's like nothing gets done except shaking hands and smiling for some newspaper or another's photographer. I don't actually do anything. It's like I'm their prize trophy that they send about. I'm bored and annoyed." He nearly flung some chicken cacciatore across the dining room as he vented to us.

"Harry, what do you want to do? You've spent your entire youth and adult life thus far doing what others want of you. You're a grown up. If you aren't happy, do something about it!" I scolded him.

"Right, mate. Besides, we don't want to hear you keep blubbering on about how miserable you are," Ron compassionately answered while managing to keep most of the food in his mouth from falling out back to his plate. When will that boy ever learn table manners?

Harry glared at us, then shrugged. "I guess you're right. I just don't know what I want to do. All I know is I don't want to be in the spotlight any more. That's why I love coming out here." Harry liked when we went out to Muggle London instead of Magic London. Muggles have no clue who we are so we blend in with the crowd. Ron doesn't mind as there is enough of his father in him to find some aspects of Muggle life fascinating. I tend to like Muggle restaurants best and as I like to wear Muggle clothes on break, I spend quite a bit shopping in places beyond Diagon Alley.

"I suppose that rules out Quidditch, though coach has been trying to get you on the Cannons for years," Ron though out loud.

"No way am I doing Quidditch, I want to live as quietly and privately as possible, Ron. You'll have to be the famous one now," Harry replied. Ron was quickly becoming well known for his Quidditch skills which developed even more as he left behind the awkward teen years.

"I don't have a quick answer for you, Harry, but I'm sure you'll find something soon to keep you happy and out of trouble," I laughed as I said that. The boys looked at me quizzically so I explained a bit of my conversation with Minerva.

"We did not get into that much trouble!" Ron defended himself.

"Ronald, the first time we ever got along with each other was while a mountain troll destroyed the girls' lavatory and Harry got his wand stuck up said troll's nose. That was simple compared to all the other mishaps and adventures the three of us managed to find over the next few years," I responded back. "We are magnates for trouble. Well, you and Harry are. I seem to merely be sucked into the trouble along with you."

Harry laughed at this. "Ron, you should know better than to argue with 'Mione. You know she is always right." He smirked at me as I swatted at his shoulder.

We continued reminiscing about our past adventures for quite some time. Luckily, the restaurant was owned by true Italians who never minded us staying much longer at our table. As we were regulars, the owners knew us and treated us well. Quite often we would get a bit of special treatment, not because of our 'hero' status, but merely because we were three young people enjoying life. Angelo and Bessie, I have no idea what her full name was, treated us as their own grandchildren. It was rare we got away with just one dessert.

After we finished eating we wandered through town a bit talking and laughing. It was good to unwind and enjoy adult conversation. I love my students, but there is only so much of the kids I can take. First years that are home sick or fighting over treats brought from Hogsmeade by older siblings can drive me batty. I get annoyed with the sixth years that take the year off mentally and focus instead on gossip and the opposite sex. The seventh years that alternate between the inflated egos of being the oldest to the fear of NEWTs can put me right over the edge. By the end of the year, I crave being a normal young adult and talking about things unrelated to Hogwarts. Yes, I, the bookworm and professor, can reach a point where I can't take any more school. The boys continue to be amazed by this fact.

When we returned to the flat it was near midnight. Ron decided to go to sleep as he had an early practice.

"I don't have to work tomorrow. How about watching a DVD?" Harry asked.

"Sounds good to me." Since we both were raised by Muggles we kept many Muggle items around the flat. A DVD player, TV, refrigerator, and blender were just a few. Mr. Weasley always loved coming over to play with them.

"Since we're still celebrating the end of term, it is your choice," Harry declared. "First, why don't we go change?" Harry and I each headed to our bedrooms to change. He came out in sweats and an old shirt. I came out in pajama bottoms and a tank top. Once more comfortably attired for a few hours on the sofa we grabbed some Butterbeer from the fridge and made our way to the sofa.

I perused our extensive DVD collection. Though it took him a year or two, Ron mastered the DVD player and now even he contributes to the collection. I pull out two options knowing very well that Harry will veto one of them. "Which would you prefer, BBC's _Pride and Prejudice_ or _Clue_?" The five hour version of _Pride and Prejudice_ is one of my favorites and I love to torture the boys by threatening to force them to watch it every time we watch a film. _Clue _is an odd American comedy which Harry and I both love. Ron usually does not quite get the humor.

"_Clue_, definitely." Harry rolls his eyes at me.

We put in the movie and settle into the sofa to watch. Within a few minutes the fatigue of the school year catches up to me. I begin to utilize Harry as a pillow. My head is on his shoulder and his arm wraps around me. It is nice to feel safe. Enough of the memories from the war still haunt me that I value the feeling of safety and protection Harry and Ron offer me. I don't think they realize it, but they are my rocks. At times like this I think of how lucky I am to have two such best friends. With that last conscious thought I fade away into a very solid sleep.

I must have slept very soundly. I woke up the next morning in my own bed. After glancing at the clock, I smile. Ten in the morning. Again, not a typical move for the Hermione known around Hogwarts. I have learned to sleep in since my days as a student. After all, I don't often get to indulge my self at school. I go to brush my teeth and pull my hair back into a ponytail. Deciding I was not going to kill anyone with morning breath, I ventured out of my room.

Harry was humming as he was making breakfast. I realized it was the smell of eggs, sausages, and something sweet in the oven that must have drew me out of my slumber.

"That smells wonderful, Harry." He jumped. "'Mione, you startled me!"

"Well, now we're even."

Harry made breakfast quite often for the three of us. He was hopeless in regards to any other meal, but he excelled at breakfast. He once explained, "The Dursleys made me cook breakfast for them so I learned how. I hated it then because I had to do it. Now I like to cook for you two and this is all I know."

He handed me a mug of coffee. I went to the refrigerator for some milk to put in it. Then I sat at the table, stirring in the sugar, and slowly finishing the process of waking up. One of the ways to tell if you are truly good friends with someone is whether you can sit in silence, wearing beat up old pajamas, looking like a small animal made a nest in your hair, and the other person does not mind. Actually, that description applied to both Harry and I. His hair was possibly worse than mine, but being shorter, it wasn't quite as noticeable.

Once the food was done and the muffins that were in the oven were ready, we both dug into our breakfast. Not much was said. Neither of us was particularly chipper in the morning.

Right around the time I was polishing off the second muffin, a tap was heard at the window. Not recognizing thee owl, Harry got up to let it in. I thought it was just delivering the paper. However, it was a letter for Harry.

He took the letter, sat down, and read it. As he made his way through it, I was amused watching his facial expressions. They switched between astonishment, amusement, puzzlement, and the far off look he gets when thinking about something of importance. Knowing he would talk when he was ready, I refilled both our mugs of coffee.

Finally he finished reading the letter. I think he read it a few times through. He continued to stare into space for a few minutes and I continued to sip my coffee. Finally he came back to reality.

"Hermione, I think I just figured out what I want to do. And the best part is that I will have the next month free."


	4. Harry's Deepest Secret

_When I get a little money, I buy books;_

_and if any is left, I buy food and clothes._

_Desiderius Erasmus_

* * *

"Don't leave me hanging here, Harry. What is in the letter?" I pester him.

He looks at me with that expression that usually prefigures some sort of mischief. "What would you say to me accompanying you back to Hogwarts?" he asks.

"Why, is the Ministry sending you there?"

"No, not at all. In fact, based on this letter, I am most definitely not going to go back to the Ministry. Did you know that the DADA professor retired at the end of the year?" he asked.

"Harry, are you going to be teaching DADA?" I ask, now fully awake and terribly excited.

"If I answer this letter from McGonagall in the next two days, then yes," he answered, smiling.

I jumped up and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Oh, this is so fantastic! Now I won't be the only person under the age of fifty on staff!"

Much as I have learned to admire and love my co-workers, there is something to be said when you are literally at least half their age. With the added incentive of having my best friend in the same building again with me I was already looking forward to the new term.

"So are you going to accept the position?" I asked. Then I thought of something, "Harry, do you really want to do this? You're not doing this out of some warped sense of duty to Minerva or something?" I questioned him.

"Stop glaring at me like that! For crying out loud 'Mione that's the same look you gave me every time I tried to copy your essays for potions!" he laughed. "Yes, this is really what I want to do. It was always in the back of my mind, teaching I mean. I loved helping the other students in DA." He paused and got that look, the one where he was caught in the past. Luckily those moments were more brief and further between.

"Besides, some one needs to make sure you have a bit of fun. You take yourself far too seriously when you are in that building. You know Ron and I feel it our duty," here he smirked, "to ensure that you are never completely grown up."

"Honestly!"

"Yes, I told Ron I could get one out of you before you finished two cups of coffee!"

I sighed. I forgot about the contest the boys perpetually ran about my little catch phrase. I don't think I use it that often.

"So what do you win?"

"I am not at liberty to say. Our wagers are confidential," he put on a superior sort of air as he cleared away the dishes.

"You'd better clean those up and put them away, mister!"

"As you wish my lady," he smirked over his shoulder as a quick _Scourgify_ cleaned the dishes and a quick flick of his wand restored them to their proper places I had put them in yesterday afternoon.

"So what now?" I asked.

"First, I'm going to scribble a quick reply to Professor McGonagall. She can enjoy trying to decipher my writing again. Then, we, my lady, are going out. I do believe you are in desperate need of…"he paused, "shopping."

Here is a hidden truth about the Boy Who Lived, the Bringer of Light, and all that rubbish; he likes to shop more than any female I have ever encountered. Mostly he likes to shop for other people, especially those he cares about. He pretends to get frustrated and impatient, but he eats it up.

I jump up, give him a hug, and rush to my room to make myself presentable. It is a warm day so a comfortable cotton skirt, a camisole, and flip flops with a scarf for my hair. I am good to go. No matter how short of a time I take, Harry always beats me. He has on a pair of khakis, the shirt I gave him for Christmas, and sandals. He cleans up well, I must admit. Probably helps that he no longer needs to wear hand-me-downs from that cousin of his.

We thus head out to face the shops. While I love to shop, something no one in my dormitory at Hogwarts would ever have suspected, my great love is bookshops. Predictable, I know.

Our first stop is this magnificent old shop not far from Diagon Alley. They are tucked into a corner and have shelves upon shelves of antique books, rare first editions, and all sorts of treasures. I make a pilgrimage there on the first full day of each holiday. The Miss Trimbles who own the store know me by name.

"Why Hermione, home again are you?" an elderly woman in a dress with more lace than you would imagine could fit on her petite frame, calls from her perch on a ladder. I told them I taught at a boarding school in the north.

"Hestia, what are you making such a fuss about?" calls Henrietta from the back room. She shuffles into the front looking like a woman from another era, with just as much lace on her slightly plumper frame. Miss Henrietta and Miss Hestia truly seem to be relics from the turn of the previous century. Though only in their seventies, they seem to have their hearts firmly planted in the Victorian era.

"Henrietta, it is Hermione Dear." I seem to acquire Dear as a surname in the shop. "And she brought that charming boy with her. The dark haired one."

"What a wonderful surprise! Come in, come in, have a spot of tea dears." Henrietta ushered us to the red chairs that fit well with the Victorian sensibility of the shop and its owners. While breakfast had just settled, I still love their biscuits. Harry never got a word in to the conversation; then again, I rarely said anything. Henrietta and Hestia carry on quite well with themselves. I think they just like an audience.

The ladies showed me new arrivals after tea while Harry milled around. After deciding on just a dozen or so books, I paid the women and we left the shop. "Where to now, Harry," I am set for my shopping.

"I don't think so, Hermione," Harry shook his head as if scolding a toddler. "As even Ron picked up that you are wearing the same dress several times and your blouses are a bit 'used' in his word, we are going shopping for clothes for you."

I can't believe this. I am being tugged down the street by a grown man to go dress shopping. Oh, if Rita Skeeter could see him now, she would have enough to keep her quill busy for years. Harry continues to pull me towards some rather posh shops that normally I avoid due to cost.

"Harry, I can't afford anything in there!"

"That may be, but I can and it is my treat."

For the next two hours Harry succeeds in his favorite pastime, spoiling those around him. He periodically will do this. He will take the Weasleys on family holidays, something his childhood never afforded him, but that he could now do. When Ginny married, he insisted on buying her gown and paying for the reception. That was quite the row; those two are so stubborn and proud. The rest of the Weasleys were in shock that Harry won. Fred and George were pestering Harry for weeks to give them tips on handling Ginny. Ron was a tough one for Harry now that he was doing so well with Quidditch. He found ways to sneak in new 'Muggle toys' for Ron. The video games and movies were just the start. Ron went crazy over the laptop and internet. He's still working on his fear of the web, that arachnophobia is a bit more intense than we all though. Me, Harry spoils me by forcing me to be a girl. I gave up years ago trying to deny that I liked to dress up during my time off. Harry bought things anyways and then would manage that little puppy look if I refused to wear them.

After two hours of shopping, Harry had his arms loaded with packages and bags. I had shoes, dresses, skirts, blouses, and all sorts of things. Including a few that I did not let Harry see me model as a girl does have to draw some lines as to what her male friends are allowed to see.

We fell through the door of the Leaky Cauldron and Harry promptly shrunk down the bags to fit in his pocket. "That must be the handiest charm. Let's take a break and get something to drink."

Thanks to Tom protecting us from the first days after the Final Battle, as long as we were in our regular spot, he kept everyone we did not wish to speak with, away from us. There were few places in Magical London where we could be in public and not be interrupted by a fan, thankful witch, or proud wizard wishing to shake our hands. At the Leaky Cauldron, Tom ensured we were just typical wizards and witch enjoying themselves.

Harry and I spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and enjoying each others company.


	5. Ron's Deepest Secret

_You only live once;_

_but if you live it right_

_once is enough._

_Adam Marshall_

* * *

The succeeding month flew. Harry immediately told the Minister of Magic that he was no longer an employee of the ministry. Before the Minister could catch his breath, Harry was back at our flat laughing at the color of purple the Minister's face turned. With his new found freedom, we played at being kids.

Quite often we would go to the last part of Ron's practices to cheer him on, or egg him on in Harry's case. Then we would go out to pubs or dance clubs, wizard and muggle, with his team mates. While most Quidditch teams have women and men on them, due to a variety of injuries and other circumstances, Ron's team was all men. As any young woman of certain age can tell you, being the undivided focus of several young, athletic men's attention can be quite enjoyable. So can watching your best friends play at the protective older brothers. Honestly, those two are a riot!

One night we were at the three broomsticks. The boys and the rest of the Canons were regaling the crowd with stories of harrowing tactics and strange locals that their referees had found themselves in. The captain, and our long time friend, Oliver, was adding in stories about the days of glory on the Gryffindor House Team.

"I will never forget two particular days both characterized by the unusual shade of green, our hero Harry Potter wore," he inserted a dramatic pause here, "on his face!"

The crowd roared. "The first was when Professor McGonagall, the Terror of Transfiguration, nearly dragged him down the halls of Hogwarts by the collar of his uniform to my charms class. She asked for me by name, Wood, and at this point I wouldn't e surprised if Harry thought he was in for some corporal punishment. He looked like he was about to be sick. While he survived that day and the easy practices that followed," here a few of his teammates guffawed knowing Oliver's penchant for tough drilling. "As I was saying, he survived practices. Then on the day of our first tournament against Slytherin, he was so nervous I thought he would pass out. He looked green yet again and as if he forgot how to breathe."

The Quidditch players laughed and slapped Harry on the back. "Another round!" shouted one of the beaters. I think his name was Michael. He came to the open seat next to me and sat down. Before the poor man could even say anything, Ron and Harry appeared from no where, one on each side of him.

"Hi, mate, wotcha doing?" Ron asked with a hint of ice in his voice.

"Looks like your butter beer is ready over there," Harry noticed indicating the other end of the bar.

Michael looked at both of them. While they are 'my boys,' I do know they can be quite intimidating. Ron stands over six feet tall and has developed some meat on his gangly frame. Harry has a reputation few wizards in history have and due to playing on the pitch outside the Burrow has managed to maintain an athletic build. The two of them are formidable should they wish. I however found the moment hysterical.

"Honestly you two! He's your teammate Ron and was just sitting there!" I managed out throughout the laughter.

They looked a mite indignant. "What, you want me to fall on my knees thanking you for protecting me from a perfectly respectable young man who was just about to say hello? You're both off your rockers."

"We are so underappreciated, Harry."

"Aye, mate. No one sees what good we do for them. They just take us for granted."

"Right, mate. Two blokes trying to prove chivalry is not dead."

At this point I am near spitting the sip of butterbeer across the room. They have that routine well versed.

Other times we were traipsing around Muggle London. Ron has a love of musical theater. Like Harry's shopping secret and my secret 'girly' side, no one but the members of the Golden Trio is aware of this fact.

We all dressed up one night to go to see the latest musical. The three of us went to dinner, the show, and then drinks after. Ron spent the whole time after at the club going on and on about how fantastic the show was and how amazing the lead actress' voice was.

Harry looked at Ron, "I bet you didn't even notice how gorgeous she was either." He winked at me.

Ron flushed ever so slightly, "Harry, that has nothing to do with anything. She is a talented artist. I appreciate art."

At this Harry and I both lose all control. We nearly fall off the bar stools laughing.

"Ron, the only art you appreciate is that Muggle bloke Art who gave you a ride to that Quidditch game when you ran out of Floo powder," Harry managed between fits.

"I forgot about that. Weren't you off in France, Harry? And Ron manages to do absolutely no housekeeping when we're both gone so he ran out of Floo powder. Then he forgot that he could Apparate. Didn't you try hitchhiking like that American movie, oh what's it, and that Art fellow picked you up in his little car. You had to come up with some wild reason why you were being dropped off in the middle of no where at an empty pasture." I remember when Harry told me the story. I had no trouble believing Ron could be that clueless. At times it seems his mind is not fully connected to the rest of his body. We love him anyways. It adds to his charm. And provides constant entertainment.

During the days, Harry and I wandered London or spent quiet time in the flat. We went to the Zoo, various parks and museums. Given our childhood, we enjoyed doing muggle things together that were of little interest to most of the wizarding world. On rainy days we would make tea and sit in comfortable silence and read.

Two weeks of such laziness and I was fully relaxed. It was wonderful.


	6. Mischief Begun

_We encounter ourselves time and again_

_in a thousand disguises on the path of life._

_Carl Jung_

* * *

I love the Sorting each year. From the Sorting Hat's song to the reactions of the First Years as they first step into the Great Hall it restores my sense of wonder of the world. For a brief period of time, I forget the antics and chaos that these fresh young faces will inevitable bring to my class. This year was to prove a source of great amusement, I think especially to Minerva, though the children will never learn that bit of information.

Somewhere around the twentieth student to have the hat placed on their head, a small, incredibly tiny girl came forward. She was so petite, with long, dirty blonde hair and huge glasses. Apparently her name was Miranda Hart. The hat took a brief moment before shouting out, "Gryffindor!" She seemed unsure of whether this was a good thing or not, as did the table of Gryffindors who were hoping for some more noteworthy members. I applauded loudly and gave her an encouraging smile.

A few more were sorted before Anthony Lewis was called forth. A skill many teachers quickly acquire is the ability to spot troublemakers from thirty paces. Lewis appeared to be the sort of troublemaker who would be able to charm his way out of any sort of repercussions. With curly brown hair and warm eyes, he already had attracted quite a bit of attention from the girls who were just of the age to notice that boys did not have cooties. The Sorting Hat quickly placed him in Gryffindor. He took a seat next to Miss Hart.

When Nicholas Ravel was called, he managed to trip over the final step and knock over the stool. As the laughter died down his face was flaming red and the Hat even chuckled as it went over his ears. This blonde haired boy was also destined to join my house. He took a seat across from Hart and stared at his hands.

One of the joys of the Professors' Table is that you see all that occurs in the Hall if you pay close enough attention. I like to take note of the First Years to ensure that they are adjusting without major difficulties and finding new friends. My own first year taught me how difficult being friendless could be. I was a bit worried this year. There were so many First Years and in particular the incredibly shy Miss Hart and that Ravel might just be clumsier than Ron was.

I carried on short conversations with those sitting near me, but kept my eyes on the Gryffindor table. I was pleased to see that those three noteworthy first years were chatting with each other. It did seem that Mr. Lewis was the one asking the questions and pulling the other two into conversation. Miss Hart would barely move her mouth in response and that Mr. Ravel would drop a utensil or roll each time he tried to talk. When the students were dismissed by Minerva, the three ended up walking out together. They would need to have an eye kept on them.

"Now Professor Granger, who are you worrying about?" came a voice from my right elbow.

"Well, Professor Potter, it seems there are three new Gryffindors that have caught my attention this year."

"Might a lowly DADA professor inquire why?" Harry asked as we left to walk towards the wing with the professors' chambers.

"Not sure yet. But I have a feeling you'll be watching them too before the year is out."

While I was never one for the so-called art of Divination, my words were going to prove to be a bit truer for the two of us young professors than I would like.

"Oh, Professor Granger, might I have a word with you?" Minerva called from down the hallway. I followed her to her rooms. She motioned to my usual chair by her hearth.

"Are you quite ready for the new year?" she asked as she sat down.

"Of, course. I had my lessons planned out and materials purchased long before returning last month," I stated. She should know by now that I am always ready long before the term starts.

"Are any of the changes on staff going to cause a disruption? Any thing at all that might be problematic?" she continued.

I was not sure what she was driving at, though I know she was trying to make a point. "Obviously I get along quite well with Harry, so that is no problem. The new Divination professor seems pleasant, and you of all people know that I plan on staying far away from her tower. I do not foresee any problems, Minerva," I surmised.

"Alright, just wanted to make sure that everything was in order," she said, "you should go check on your house now."

I trekked to Gryffindor Tower and climbed through the portrait. The students were all quite busy chatting and catching up with each other. I paused for a moment before announcing my presence, I learned a great deal about the students when they were unaware of my presence. Apparently there were several new couples amongst the tower and a few inter-House relationships. That is always useful to know for when I partner students up in class. Then there were the boys who were already discussing the Quidditch team. I noticed Mr. Ravel closely following that discussion as he sat on the sofa next to Miss Hart and Mr. Lewis. Hart, Lewis, and a few other first years were listening to Melissa Thatcher, the Gryffindor prefect, explain who I was.

"Our head of house is that really young professor you saw tonight. She has the long brown hair, it used to always be up in a braid, but something must have changed over the summer. Plus she usually wore really dark, high collared, robes, but that royal blue robe she had on tonight was smashing. Anyway, when she started she was the youngest professor ever at Hogwarts. She's a great Transfiguration professor and really fair to those in her house. If you have a problem, you can really go to her; she'll listen and try to help you. Plus, since she was one of the Golden Trio, you know there's nothing she can't do."

At that point I decided to step in. I do not need to have some sort of mythic stature among the students. Plus, I did not want the students speculating on my wardrobe. I am their teacher, not a fashion plate.

"May I have you attention!" I slightly raised my voice. Courtesy of my past and a bit of well placed authority, I can usually command the attention of a busy common room without resorting to yelling. Yet again, the room silenced immediately.

I made my usual speech of welcome, expectations for the new year, and so forth. A few students had questions about everything from the Quidditch team tryouts to the first Hogsmeade weekend to when they would have their first exam. Questions answered or else relayed to the relevant person and then I left.

When I got back to my chamber, I found Harry in the sitting room with some tea ready. He was reading a book on rare curses and chewing thoughtfully on a biscuit. Since returning to Hogwarts together, my sitting room is our common room. After our work day was through, we would often sit here reading, preparing for the next day or just talking. It was not unlike the endless hours we spent in front of the Gryffindor fireplace throughout our years as students. At the usual hour, Harry closed his book, said good night and went to his chambers. I continued reading for a bit more before I went to sleep.

The next few weeks flew by very quickly. It was nearing Halloween suddenly and the students were all settled into the rhythm of Hogwarts. This was true for those in the first year class. No longer falling for the older students' attempts to scare them with legends, myths, and other rubbish, the first year students were finding their own voices to add to the cacophony in the hallways between classes.

Unlike some of the other professors, I like to keep my classroom door open and often will work at my classroom desk instead of in my office during my free periods. This allows me to be more accessible and less intimidating to the students. One day, probably a week before Halloween, I heard those three Gryffindor first years talking just outside my office.

"So class is done, what should we do now?" Nicholas asked his companions.

"We all know you want to go watch whatever team is practicing Quidditch," replied Anthony.

There was a soft giggle from Miranda. "Why don't we go exploring, there's so much in the castle to see?" she softly suggested. I was glad to hear Miranda speaking so openly. In class it was apparent she was intelligent and she was receiving good marks, but she rarely would raise her hand or offer any sort of verbal response.

"You know, I think that's a great idea. My mum was telling me that it is tradition that Gryffindor have a famous set of friends. I propose it is us. She was telling me stories that when my aunt Aggie was here there were these four guys who were always getting into trouble and were the coolest guys in school. Then there were obviously, the Golden Trio. I propose we take up the tradition and become the inseparable new group," Anthony excitedly said.

"But we can't get into trouble!" Miranda quickly replied.

"I'm all for it. Lots of those guys were great at Quidditch, so maybe there's hope I'll make the team next year!" Nicholas quickly acquiesced to the plan.

"We need to do research. Those guys all knew the castle, the people who lived here, and every other relevant detail. So we'll start with Miranda's idea of exploring. Then we need to pay attention to everything and everyone," Anthony concluded as the three walked off down the hall.

I was still shaking my head when Harry walked into my classroom. "I still feel like a student when I come in here. There was something that intimidating about Professor McGonagall."

"Did you happen to hear any of the conversation of those three Gryffindor first years, Anthony, Miranda, and Nicholas?" I asked him.

"No, would that explain the look of fear and amusement you had on your face when I came in?"

"Yes, they were talking in the hall just before you came in and were near enough the open door that I heard all they said."

"'Mione, you should know better than to eavesdrop," Harry mockingly reproved me.

"Honestly, it was unintentional. Besides, I learn very useful information that helps me to be a better teacher."

Harry laughed, "You do realize that as you said that you sat up straighter and got the know-it-all voice started?"

I rolled my eyes. "Apparently, those three have decided to follow in the illustrious footsteps of the Marauders and the Golden Trio as Gryffindor's famous group of friends. They have begun researching and trying to get information on everyone and everything, as they put it."

"This should prove interesting," Harry comments as he begins following his own train of thought. Suddenly, there's that flash in his eyes.

"Oh, no, whatever you're thinking of no. No!"

"Now, 'Mione, if they are really going to attempt to live up to the Marauders and us, they need a bit of help," Harry replied in his new found 'professor' voice.

"No, Harry, whatever you want to do, no!"

"I was merely going to give them a tool. Not our most valuable one, but my dad found it quite handy," Harry said.

"I certainly hope it's not what I am thinking of, Harry," I reproved him.

"Remember how we made copies of the Marauder's Map so we could keep track of each other when things really got messy towards the end of school?"

"Yes," I curtly replied.

"I think one of those copies may end up mysteriously in their possession. I think I even know what to put on the card…" he faded out into a combination of memory and mischief. A dangerous combination for anyone, but especially dangerous when it was Harry.

Imagine my lack of surprise when a week later I came around a corner in an otherwise deserted hallway and heard Anthony quickly say, "Mischief managed," as he tapped a piece of parchment. I will have to speak to Ron about encouraging Harry's antics and providing materials to corrupt innocent students.

"Good evening, Professor Granger," the three chorused as I walked by.

"You may not want to leave the map out in your hand when a professor walks by children. Even a piece of blank parchment can draw suspicion," I said as I kept walking.

I could hear their jaws drop as I turned the next corner. Yes, mischief managed indeed.

* * *

_A/N: As this is going to keep going for some time, I'd love to hear your thoughts and suggestions! Please take a moment to review. Thanks!_


	7. Things That Fall From Above

_Some people walk in the rain,_

_others just get wet._

_Roger Miller_

* * *

November brought that dreary stretch, disliked by teachers and abhorred by students. The holidays are just far enough away to seem like an eternity and the weather is, in a word, grey. I have found over the past few years there will be a day, somewhere in this span of time that will test my endurance, patience, and sanity. With the blessing of those three charming first years, the day came a bit earlier than I expected, in fact, it came the day after the Halloween feast.

My last class on the first of November was the first year transfiguration class with the Gryffindors. Each student was still buzzing due to the amount of sugar and excitement of the previous night. The first years tend to be overawed by the Halloween Feast and often overindulge on the sweets. Having not quite made it to the Halloween Feast my first year, I speak this from observation, not experience. Though each year I am still infinitely grateful to not meet a troll in the castle, especially since that little prank that the Weasley twins pulled my first year as a professor...

After ten futile minutes of trying to get the children to focus, I was nearing my wits end. The Advanced Transfiguration class had been dreadful as no one was able to do the spell. The third years had managed to transfigure half the desks to chickens, despite that the spell had nothing to do with either desks or chickens. I had to then spend my two free hours prior to the first years' class collecting chickens and restoring them to their rightful, silent state. I was suffering from a headache, sneezing fits due to the feathers still floating about the room, and absolutely no tolerance for noisy eleven year olds.

I spent some time explaining the day's lesson, putting notes on the board, and answering the two legitimate questions asked by Miranda. I find that I call them by their first names in my mind, but I live up to Minerva by using the Mr. and Miss when speaking.

After answering Miranda's last question, a hand goes up next to her.

"Professor Granger!" Anthony asks, or rather hollers.

"Yes, Mr. Lewis?"

"Is it true that a Mountain Troll once was in the castle?"

Inwardly I let out a huge sigh. This is just like my second year when we put poor Minerva in the position of explaining the Chamber of Secrets. I knew there was no way out other than to at least explain something of the past.

"Yes, it was quite some time ago and is most assuredly not something any of you need to worry about happening again," I assure those looking a bit fearful. "And for those of you thinking that this would be a grand prank to pull, I can assure you that you cannot accomplish the task." A swift glare is given to the pranksters in the class.

"Is it true that students took down the troll?" asked a boy in the back corner. I would hazard one of parents were in the upper years that year.

Here an audible sigh escaped my lips. I knew that if I truly tried I could reign in the class and attempt to finish the lesson. There were just thirty minutes left now of the class. I fought the inner battle of whether or not the grand effort was worth it. I decided, just for today, to play historian with the children. Each class inevitably would ask me about my history, the Golden Trio, and our exploits. At first I was amazed at the level of notoriety we achieved among our peers as students and the Wizarding World as a whole. Ron and I always knew that Harry was famous, but our spotlights surprised us. Ron adjusted quite quickly. I am still struggling with it all.

"Yes, should you like to hear the story?" I asked the children, knowing both the answer and that Harry would kill me for this. He hated the attention and disliked having the younger students in awe of him and older students hero-worshiping him.

"And that is how I became friends with Professor Potter and Ron Weasley. And that is why you should not go off by yourself in the castle," I concluded with a bit of a lesson. The professor in me could not resist.

"So you've known Professor Potter, for like, forever?" asked the indubitable Nicholas.

"Not quite forever, I was eleven when I first came here, just like you." I smiled. As I began moving back down the aisle, I noticed the charming Anthony cast a sidelong glace at Miranda and Nicholas. She gave a small sweet smile while Anthony looked confused. They really are doing well living up to our reputations. What was that glance about though?

One of the girls, soon to be the class beauty, raised her hand. "Yes, Miss Murphy?"

"Is it true that you dated both Viktor Krum and Ronald Weasley?" she asked in a hushed, awed tone.

I laughed again. "Yes, I did," and before the class clown in the back could make a comment, "No, not at the same time."

"Why did you stop seeing them, Professor Granger?"

"Miss Murphy, this is the one and only time that I will answer such personal questions for the duration of your time here at Hogwarts. That said, Viktor Krum and I did not last for long, distance is not conducive to a romance between two very young people. Ron Weasley and I dated for a while but realized it was more just because we felt like everyone expected us to be a couple. From our earliest days here as students, our fighting reminded people of old married couples and a few even of Professor Potter's parents. Our dating relationship ended long ago and with no bad feelings on either of our parts."

And that took us to the end of the class. As the children scampered out of class, I sunk into my desk chair and began massaging my temples. The hallway was noisy as the students rejoiced at the end of the day and in eager anticipation for dinner.

After a few moments I rallied my strength waved my wand to extinguish the candles and arrange the stray items in the room. Without a backward glance I shut the door and trudged to my room. I peeled off my robes and put on my warm, old, flannel pajamas. They were from my mom several Christmases ago so they are well washed and worn, the perfect comfortable clothes for the end of a very bad, long day. I got my hair out of my face with a rubber band and settled into my chair by the fire.

I must have dozed off because Harry woke me up with a plate of food in one hand and a concerned look on his face.

"Hermione, are you alright? You missed dinner. I brought you some things. Actually Dobby tried to send the entire contents of the kitchens with me, but I assured him I would not be able to carry it all up here," he tried to get me to smile.

It worked. "Oh, Harry," I groggily replied as I did a quick check to see if I had drooled while sleeping. No drool in sight, so I was safe.

"I am fine. I just had a long day today and with the headache I had earlier it just put me out of sorts. I'm fine now that I had a bit of a nap," I replied.

"Good, I wouldn't want my Mione getting sick now," he patted me on the head.

"Harry Potter, do not treat me like your pet dog, thank you very much," I said with as much indignation that a girl in flannel pajamas, messed hair, and a growling stomach can muster.

"Hermione that would be a compliment. You know I have a soft spot for dogs. Especially ones with uneven tempers," he laughed and I glared. "Do you want me to go?"

"No, no, stay here and keep me company. Actually, you may have a bad day on Monday," I smirked as I took a bit of the chicken.

"What did you do?"

"I did nothing," I fluttered my innocent looking eyelashes. He raised his right eyebrow.

"Its more like what I said that you should be worried about," I triumphed with this and proceeded to take a few bites of the vegetables while Harry slowly brewed over what I could mean.

"My last class today asked the inevitable questions about the past and to get it out of the way, I caved and actually went a bit beyond where I normally go. That Miss Murphy can be so sweet and charming when she looks up at you with those big doe eyes. Without even trying she will get you to spill everything."

At this Harry was looking decidedly concerned, "Hermione Granger what did you say?"

So I told him of my retelling of the Mountain Troll incident and how we've known each other forever. "Honestly, we're twenty five. The kids make it seem like we're at death's door. And since we have knocked that door several times we should know better than them!"

Harry laughed at this. "That's true. Merlin, Mione, we have been through it all haven't we?"

"Let's see how many friends begin speaking to each other due to a troll, get tangled in deadly weeds, play a giant game of life-threatening chess, have the opportunity to poison themselves and face the most evil creature to walk the earth all in the first year? That's not even to mention the more recent adventures of keeping Ginny from killing her mother the day of her wedding, keeping Ron from killing us by drowning us in his messes, the ever persistent Rita Skeeter, your personal fan club which now has the additions of Ron and mine's to it."

Harry chuckled, "Our lives really are the stuff that movies and books should be about. No one would believe it's true though!"

I did a charming sort of snort laugh in response. This cued Harry to laugh in response. "Oh, Hermione, I love when you do that!" He doubled over laughing. I, in all my glory as a witch, hexed him so he started squealing like a pig. He looked so utterly appalled when that first squeal came out of his mouth instead of a laugh! That face! I love when I can one-up Harry.

After a few minutes of Harry rolling on the floor in fits of squealing, I took pity on him and said the counter-curse. "Now be a good boy and come sit by me on the sofa. I need a pillow."

Harry obliged and he sat there silently stroking my hair until I dozed off again some time later. He then carried to me to bed. I came out of my slumber enough to murmur, "Good night, Harry," as he tucked the covers around me. "Good night, Hermione," he whispered as he kissed my forehead.

The next morning I woke up and reveled in the fact that it was Saturday. Tragically, the weather did not feel the need to mirror my mood. It was a steady fall of rain and it seemed the sort of shower that would continue unabated all day. I hopped in the shower, got dressed, and headed to breakfast.

I chatted with the other professors over toast and coffee. Harry wandered in, late, as I should expect. "Harry, we have exactly four minutes before our rounds should start," I scolded.

Minerva chuckled, "Why Miss Granger, you do sound just like you did as Head Girl. As I recall, even then, Harry was seldom on time for your patrols."

"Honorable Professors, as the only living heir to the Marauders must make a memorable entrance!"

At this I laughed and Minerva struggled to keep a stern countenance. She would not give up her façade in front of the students if it was at all possible to avoid so. Harry inhaled some breakfast and the two of us left for our morning rounds.

Not much was to be found in the castle. It seems the dreary weather dulled the enthusiasm that was running amok yesterday. Most students were keeping themselves out of serious trouble by studying or staying in their common rooms. Harry and I kept up our running conversation. Even after fourteen years of friendship we never run out of things to talk about, even if the topics are mundane or seemingly insignificant. When we were wrapping up a conversation about wool sweaters, we heard something behind us. Whatever it was, it was very quiet and working hard to stay out of our sight. Our days of hunting horicruxes and Death Eaters were well applied to students sneaking around the castle. The added aid of the original Marauder's Map gave us an edge.

Harry pulled his out to see as I pretended to stop and check an empty classroom for any snogging students. He whispered the words and the map introduced itself to him. Before names appeared, the gasp behind me helped me to figure out who the culprits were. The only others in the castle that could know the words that would bring the map to life were three young Gryffindors who were determined to be just as memorable as Harry.

When he saw their names and my hunch was confirmed, we had a silent conversation. He raised his eyebrow. I smirked. He nodded down the hall. I tapped my index finger to my nose. He winked and I smirked again.

We took off at a fast pace down the hall making full use of our longer legs to gain distance on the shorter first years. We rounded a bend, said a few words, waved our wands several times, and bolted down the hall. Taking another quick turn, we stopped and utilizing a few special charms were able to see as the three children found our surprise.

Confetti fell from the ceiling, that wonderful muggle substance Jell-O flew at them, and a banner rolled down from the ceiling with great panache…

"_Those wishing to be Marauders or perhaps another Trio,_

_Would be wise to remember, they have yet much to learn,_

_For the Trio minus one still makes a formidable duo,_

_Who on ambitious and curious students can turn!"_

"I can't believe they did this!" Anthony said in shock and admiration.

"I can't believe I'm covered in Jell-O. And its lime, I hate lime!" moaned Miranda, clearly a muggle born.

"Dude, I so have to learn how to do this!" concluded Nicholas.

Harry and I chuckled. He cleaned up the hall and the students with a wave of his wand. I shrunk the banner down and replicated it twice to give each student a memento of this.

I know what you are thinking. Hermione Granger, former Head Girl, perfectionist, the one who thought expulsion worse than death was pulling pranks on students and she was a professor! These students though were special, they understood and were proud of the trust we placed in them to live up to our reputations and keep this secret to themselves. Plus I found over the years of my friendship with the boys, the Second Wizarding War, and frankly too much time with Fred and George, that having a sense of humor and not taking everything too seriously can often change or save your life. So Hermione Granger grew a sense of humor and a devious alter ego.

As Harry and I walked further down the hall we began to lose the conversation the three students were having.

"We so have to get even for this…" "…they're professors!..." "Hmmm…do you think…" "Oh, that would be so sweet…"

"Harry, do you think we started something that they will manage to finish?" I pondered.

"Hermione, you know that we can handle anything together, even three audacious first years," he draped his arm over my shoulders. "Hey, lets go get some fresh air. Our time patrolling is done."

"Harry, its raining still! Plus I have essays to score." I reasoned with him. I should know better, I really should.

"Hermione, you are coming outside no matter what you try to say!" he declared, swinging me over his shoulder and carrying me to the side entrance to the grounds. He then proceeded to plop me down in a nice spot of mud, several centimeters deep. The mud made a squelching sound as it covered my shoes and stockings.

"Harry James Potter, you are a dead man!"

"Oh, I'm scared. I've never heard that before from you!"

Thus began a highly mature and invigorating chase around the back side of the castle out of sight from any windows the students could be looking out of. However, we forgot about the side door and the three imps from our former house.

"See, I told you, it is so perfect!"

"You're right, how sweet!"

"You said that before, Mira."

"Well, Nick, its still true."

"Mates, I think I know where our mission lies that will make us as famous as the Marauders and as admired as the Golden Trio."

I noticed them poke their heads through the doorway but they went back inside. I couldn't hear their conversation over the rain and as they turned back in nearly immediately, I was unconcerned.


	8. A Powerful Quartet

_I am not young enough to know everything._

_Oscar Wilde_

* * *

While I was outside in the rain, I was oblivious to some very important machinations of some very clever people within the dry walls of the castle.

"Alright, so we're agreed? We have our mission?" questioned Anthony.

"I think it is a wonderful idea, Tony!"

"Awww, Mira, do you have to be so girly?" moaned Nicholas.

"It just so happens, Nicholas, that I am a girl. Is that a problem?" Mira drew up to her full, though uninspiring height, as she pulled out her wand. It was the wand and her ample knowledge of how to use it that quelled her friend's comments.

Anthony chuckled, but was interrupted by a cutting voice.

"What are three young Gryffindors doing so far from their common room on such a dreadful day? One might think they were causing trouble."

A moment of shear dread spread over the three as they turned around and saw none other than their headmistress looming over them. At her height with the addition of that plumed hat, she inspired no little fear in the three imps plotting, well, something.

Finally Anthony, the spokesperson for the group, found his voice. "Headmistress, we were just taking a break from studying and stretching our legs a bit." He likely would have managed this bit of a lie were it not for two key things. One he glanced at the door that supposedly only teachers knew went directly to the grounds. Two there was a very small piece of confetti barely peaking out from under the collar of his shirt. A good professor at Hogwarts, especially one who survived the infamous Weasley twins does not forget the effects of pranks. She glanced down the hall, nodded to herself, and declared, "I see."

Thereupon, she opened the door and spied her Professors of Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts doing a waltz in the rain. "I see," she murmured. "Indeed." The three children peaked around her to see what she saw.

Miranda's sigh brought the Headmistress back to the moment. She pondered her next words for just long enough to make the three before her begin squirming. "It is safe to say you three are aware of the situation outdoors?" They replied with meek looks. "Yes, and it is safe to say that you three are planning to encourage such behavior from your professors, as you know better than them what their lives should be like?" Here they barely brought their eyes up to meet hers. "Yes again, I may also say that it is safe that you have some tricks up your sleeve?" Here she glanced at Nicholas. He blushed and the three wondered if she possibly knew that he had the Marauder's Map tucked in the sleeve of his robe.

"Hmmm, yes again. I have one last thing to say. You have my full support in all that you do so long as it is with the best of intentions and does not disrupt your studies or classes. Nor shall you share with anyone my condoning this little mission of yours. Understood?" Here three bewildered Gryffindors looked up at their new hero with wide eyes of awe. "Should you need assistance at any point, you are free to contact me, even in my office or chambers. Dobby, the house elf, I'm sure you are already familiar with will be made familiar with this and direct you to me should you need me. I suggest you return to your common room to discuss the day's developments and avoid being found by your professors when they return to the castle."

Here Miranda, Anthony, and Nicholas scuttled up to the Gryffindor common room while the ever surprising Headmistress created a window in the wall. As she gazed out she spoke quietly to herself, "Hopefully that will get things moving. Those two are taking quite long enough realizing what they are about." She had full faith in the three youngsters tearing their way through the castle back to their common room. For there is nothing that three determined children with a cause they believe in cannot accomplish. She had seen great deeds done too many times by those often overlooked due to age or size. Yes, those three should manage to accomplish their mischief quite efficiently.


	9. A Sty, Gifts, and a Kiss

_My theory on housework is,_

_if the item doesn't multiply, smell,_

_catch on fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be._

_No one cares. Why should you?_

_Erma Bombeck_

* * *

Finally, the term ended and it was time to go home for the holidays. There were enough professors willing to stay in the castle over the holidays so that both Harry and I were able to return to London on the train with the students. With all that happened to the train in the days we were students, parents that remember the war were always much happier knowing professors rode. Especially when two of those professors were the famous Potter and Granger, parents felt quite content regarding their children's safety and good behavior.

Harry and I chatted with the students and parents at the station. We waited until the last student was escorted from the platform. We both visibly relaxed at that moment. "Thank Merlin!" Harry exhaled.

"How can it be that there is always a family nearly two hours late picking up their child? The train arrives at the same time, each time it comes!" I exclaimed.

"No matter, Mione, it's done, we're free, and it's Christmas!" Harry cheered me. He charmed the trunks down in size to fit in the pocket of his coat. We had changed into muggle clothes on the train as we were planning on doing a bit of last minute shopping in muggle London.

I needed to get a few things for my family. I thought I would pick up some earrings for my mum and perhaps a watch for my dad. My mum wrote that his just broke. That is her subtle way of hinting I should buy him one for a present. It would have been subtle if it had not been written in each of her last six letters. All sent in the last seven days I was at Hogwarts.

"Shall we, my lady?" asked Harry as he held out his arm.

"We shall, my lord." I linked my arm through his and we left for our shopping excursion.

After a few hours, I finally got to the jewelry shop I needed. I began hunting through the cases for a watch. After a few years of teaching and a fairly modest amount of expenditures, mostly on books, I was in a position to spoil my parents this year. There it was, a perfect watch for my dad. Extra dials and such, just as he would like given his love of gadgets. He gets along well with Mr. Weasley as the two can talk for days about muggle gizmos and gadgets. I motion to the attendant that I need help. He walks over, I indicate the watch.

"No, that's not everything; I am also looking for a pair of earrings for my mother."

"This way miss," he leads me to another case full of earrings from the simple single stones to huge monstrosities that must cost more than I would make in my life of teaching.

I know my mother likes fairly simple jewelry. We have that much in common. I ask for the tray with simple, single stone earrings.

"Harry, which do you think my mum would like better?" I hold up one pair of garnet earrings suspended by a simple gold loop and a pair of pearl studs.

"Well, they are basically the same to me," Harry starts to answer, but as he sees my face he knows that is the wrong answer. "I think that she would like the pearl earrings. I don't think I remember her ever really wearing dangling earrings except when she's all dressed up. She would probably wear the pearls more often." Harry redeemed himself quite well.

"Good answer," I reply and peck him on the cheek.

"Shall I wrap these for you?" the jeweler asks.

"Oh, yes, that would be lovely," I smile.

I begin wandering around the store looking through the other items. The case with necklaces catches my eye so I meander over to it. I am looking intently at a couple of necklaces with deep garnets and odd purple sort of stones in them when Harry comes up behind me.

"Now who are you shopping for?" he asks.

"Just browsing while we wait for the watch and earrings," I reply. He glances over my shoulder to see what I was looking at so intently.

"They are pretty," he says.

"Honestly, Harry, they're gorgeous."

We are then interrupted by the clerk who returns the now wrapped packages to me. He wishes us a happy Christmas as we leave. As the door closes behind us, he turns to the other clerk and I hear him say, "What a charming couple."

I feel a faint blush creep up my cheeks. Luckily the chill wind hides my mild embarrassment. I shiver as I wonder why I was embarrassed. People have commented on my relationship with Harry, and Ron for that matter, since we were in school. Even when I was dating Ron I never blushed about it. Oh, well, I must just be tired from the school term.

"Cold?" Harry asks as he noticed my shiver.

"Hmm, I guess," I reply

He stops and turns to me. He ties my scarf tighter around me, pulls my wool cap out of my pocket and places it on my hair, and then puts his arm around my shoulders and began walking on my right side again. "Better?"

I shivered again, though I don't think I was still cold. He squeezed my shoulders tighter and rubbed my right arm with his free hand. "To the Leaky Cauldron then for some warm butter beer!"

I laughed. It must just be the cold and the exhaustion and the excitement for my favorite holiday.

After a warming drink, we made our way to the flat. I should have prepared myself better for apparating into that entryway. I really should have known. After all, fourteen years of knowing Ron should prepare me for what he can do to a place when left alone for nearly four whole months.

"Ronald Weasley, what do you think you have done to this flat? Are you an animal or a wizard? Did you even learn anything about cleaning charms or that you are supposed to put your things away after yourself?" I holler out at the top of my lungs which are well developed after years of yelling at the boys and now a few years of teaching.

"Mum! I didn't think you'd be dropping by today!" I hear from the kitchen.

At this Harry loses it and collapses on the floor in a fit of laughter. He seems to do that quite a bit.

"Ronald I am not your mother, but you can be assured she shall hear about how you keep up after yourself when left unattended!"

"Merlin's beard Hermione! Take a deep breath; it's just a bit of clutter!" Ron dares to say as he comes into the entryway. "Hey, mate," he says to Harry. Harry merely continues laughing hysterically on the floor, clutching his sides, leaning against our door frame.

"You, sir, are going to clean every inch of this place immediately! I refuse to dwell in such a sty and I also refuse to clean up after you yet again!"

"But, Mione, you always cleaned up after me and Harry every time you came home!" he says. "What's so different now?" He has a look on his face that is new to me. I shall have to investigate that, later though, as I am still most displeased with him.

"Ronald, you are twenty five years old and well able to take care of yourself. Clean this place up now!"

"Yes, Mione," he mutters. I hear him stalk back into the kitchen and hear the plates, pans, food, and other sundry items return to their rightful locations. He moves through the rest of the flat and after twenty minutes has my approval for his work.

"Very good, Ron," now if you can manage to do that once a week it would be charming," I hug him. "Hello, it is wonderful to see you, where are you taking me to dinner tonight?" I continue talking as I head down the hall to my room to change.

"How does she do that?" Ron asks Harry who had picked himself off the floor in an effort to not be sent zooming through the flat in Ron's hasty cleaning. "I mean one minute she is spitting more fire than a dragon, the next she is hugging me hello, and then she is demanding dinner. Women!"

"I heard that Ronald," I call from my room just before heading into the shower.

I decide that I really want to celebrate; after all, Christmas is just a few days away and so I pull on my favorite black dress, find some black stockings, these amazingly high black heels, and the appropriate undergarments to complete the ensemble. After dressing, I sit down at the vanity. Cocking my head to the side, I say a few words and my hair is behaving itself in pleasant curls held back by some simple silver clips. I dig through my jewelry box but do not see anything that would go with the dress other than a pair of silver earrings. No necklace tonight, I guess.

I head down the hall and hear the boys talking. I follow their voices and find them on the sofa.

"Well, I see that I'm going to have to change. I was hoping Harry would be wrong when he said we'd have to be dressed up tonight." Ron knows that he best not argue with me when I get the rare itch to splurge. He drags himself from the sofa where he was wearing a perfectly fine pair of khaki pants and blue shirt. "I'll be back."

"Do I meet with your approval, my lady? I would not want to disgrace such a beautiful and charming lady such as you," Harry asks as he stands up and twirls. I inspect the classic black suit with which he managed to find an emerald green shirt and coordinating tie that made his eyes shine even brighter and suited the festive season. He stopped turning and caught my eyes.

"You'll do, I do believe you'll do," I say with a slightly condescending air.

"Oh, I'll do, huh?" He then reached out, grabbed my hand, twirled me around then dipped me over his knee.

"Oi, you two, knock it off, I'm starving," Ron said as he came in the room. There was that look again.

That night was wonderful. Harry and I told Ron all about the new students, especially Miranda, Anthony, and Nicholas. As Ron had given up his map, he had particular interest in them.

I left the next afternoon for my parents. Harry and Ron were going to the Burrow. Harry alternated holidays with our families as he was a member of each in all but blood. I guess that with all that we had been through over the years enough of our blood had been spilled for each other that even that is not quite true. We stay with our families through Christmas Eve. At midnight we apparate back to our flat for our own celebration.

I love time with my parents. On Christmas Eve, we have a huge family supper and then open gifts. The gifts were exactly what my parents wanted. My dad put the watch on immediately and began playing with all the dials and such. It took him about three hours to set the time. My mom rushed to the mirror so she could see the earrings as she put them on. "These are stunning, Hermione," she gasped.

"You can thank Harry tomorrow, too. He helped me to pick them out at the shop." I answer.

All of our families gather together at the Burrow on Christmas day for a huge family reunion of sorts. Each of us lost some family in the War, but we also found family in the friends around us.

My mother gave me a look and said, "I will thank him. How has his first year of teaching been?" Thus begins a long conversation about the school year.

After the gift opening, I take a short nap. At exactly 11:45 at night I wake up and get my things together. I apparate back to the flat, in my room, not the entryway. One year we all arrived back within second of each other and ended up with quite a few bumps and bruises as we piled on top of each other. After that, we decided to apparate into our rooms to avoid any Christmas injuries.

I dump all my things onto the bed and find my new flannel pajamas. It is also tradition that the three of us must wear our pajamas to our Christmas celebration.

I pad out of my room in my red and green pajamas with little sprigs of holly embroidered all over. My feet are warmly encased in my Mickey Mouse slippers. They look like his big yellow shoes. After the war, when things settled down, my family and I took a trip to Disney World in America. I saw these ridiculous things and had to have them. They boys love to torture me about them, but I do not care.

Harry and Ron had yet to arrive; they usually manage to show up at exactly midnight. I go to the kitchen to begin the food preparations. As I am getting together the hot cocoa and other treats, I hear the telltale pops from the boys' rooms. Two minutes later they come out ready to celebrate.

"Happy Christmas!" we all call to each other. Luckily we charmed all the walls long ago so as not to disturb our neighbors with our late night antics. Harry comes in wearing an old muggle sweatshirt and pajama pants that have flying snitches whizzing around them. Ron comes in wearing basically the same outfit, but with an old Quidditch jersey as his shirt. They both glance at my feet and snicker. They are merely wearing old socks on their feet. Nothing quite as charming as two boys wearing dirty socks.

"Are all the gifts by the hearth?" Ron asks eager as always.

"Mine are," I say.

"Same for me," Harry replies.

"I've got the cocoa and pop corn ready," I hold up the bowl of munchies. "Can one of you grab the tray with the mugs?" Harry dashes forward to take the tray.

"I've got some of mum's special Christmas biscuits!" Ron calls as he leads the way to the living room.

We settle into the sofa and I pull a blanket over my lap. I am always cold. Harry starts a roaring fire up, "Warmer?" he asks.

"It helps."

"Okay, who is first?" Ron asks. I roll my eyes.

"Here, open this one from me." I hand him a package in green foil wrap and a huge gold bow. He tears it off in half a second.

"Wow, a book…" he trails off, a bit confused at first.

"Honestly, Ronald, open it up!" even at Christmas he can be so dense.

"Great Merlin!" You see, it was not just any book, but a collection of photographs all signed by the greatest Quidditch players from our youth. All the players that Ron talked incessantly about all seven years of school, even when we were hunting the Horicruxes. Having a bit of fame is useful on occasion.

Ron dropped the book and gave me a huge hug. "You are bloody incredible, Mione!" I don't even bother trying to correct his language. There are some battles I just do not want to fight on Christmas.

"Here's mine Ron," Harry says as he reaches over me to hand Ron another gift. I guess great minds think alike, because Ron croaked out another, "Great Merlin!" as he opened the gift from Harry. Inside was a broom.

"Harry, this isn't even out in stores yet! The team's been talking about it all season and how it is supposed to knock all other brooms off the pitch!"

I know Harry used his name to get his hands on this broom; it was the latest and best, not even due in stores until the summer. When it comes to friends, he does pull out all the stops.

"All right Harry, your turn!" Ron declares after giving him a manly hug, or rather one handed pat on the back in thanks.

Harry looks at the package trying to determine which side is the correct end to open. Finally he finds the biggest piece of spell-o-tape and pulls at that. He pulls out several items.

"I know you were upset that you were going to have to miss my games, so this is a personalized Quidditch fan gift!" Ron announced.

Harry opened a card from which tickets and a note fell. The tickets were to every game that Ron played including box seats for next year's World Cup should his team make it. They were favored and we were hoping. The note was from Minerva. Much as our parents had to give us permission to go to Hogsmeade, this note was permission for Harry to leave the school on any weekend day when Ron had a game. Also in the box was a brand new jersey with Potter on the back and a framed picture of the three of us at the last game we were all at before the school year began.

Harry gave Ron another manly 'hug.' I gave Harry his gift.

He chuckled as he pulled out a book, "You really do stick with what you're good at, don't you?" Then he opened it and read what it said on the first page. Ron was actually silent and still at this point, knowing what was inside.

"Oh, Mione, this is incredible," Harry whispered.

As he never had a normal family growing up, his aunt and uncle were family in name only, family was a special thing to Harry. I decided to put together a photo album of Harry's family. I knew he had a photo album of his parents that Hagrid gave to him first year, so I thought I would give him an album with photos of his current 'family.' There were pictures of the Weasleys all smiling and pulling their usual antics. I put in quite a few from Ginny's wedding as that was such a wonderful event and everyone Harry cared about was there. A few pictures of the three of us over the course of the years we lived together made it in the album. I even had a photo of Minerva and Harry chatting at Hogwarts. Neither knew I took the picture so you saw them caught in an animated discussion. The expression of Minerva's face was what I recognized from my aunts' faces when they spoke with me. Harry paged through the album for several minutes. The last picture was one of the three of us taken at the end of Ginny's wedding reception. The boys were in formal robes and I was in my special maid of honor robe. We were all shoeless and lounging in chairs laughing. You could see we were exhausted, but completely happy.

Harry had tears in his eyes as he turned to hug me. The hug lasted considerably longer than the one from Ron. "You have no idea how much this means to me, Mione," Harry whispered in my ear.

"You're family, Harry, you know I love you. You know Ron loves you," I whisper back.

When Harry finally lets me go, I feel a bit bereft without his arm about me. Ron breaks whatever moment had just occurred by shoving something into my lap. I think it is a Christmas gift, but it could just be a huge pile of wrapping paper held together by a massive amount of spell-o-tape.

I manage to open this package. Inside is a flannel wrap. "Oh, Ron, I love it!"

The boys know I am always cold during the winter, no matter what charms I try or how big a fire is in the hearth. Ron managed to find a flannel wrap I can wear in my chambers at Hogwarts that matches my favorite pajamas. I give him a hug.

"Wait a minute, there's more!" he says before I toss away the wrappings.

I look again and sure enough under some tissue I see a bit of deep scarlet fabric sticking out of what was once the pretty gold wrapping paper. I pull the fabric out and I gasp. "Ron, how did you every pick this out! It is beautiful!" He found a gorgeous cashmere cardigan sweater with little silver buttons down the front.

"I figured the wrap is for when you are by yourself and the sweater you can wear about without embarrassing yourself." He was quite proud of his gift. I kissed him on the cheek.

"My turn," Harry said as he gave me a fairly small box.

I carefully unwrapped it as it was in beautiful paper. Actually, it was muggle gift wrap and vaguely familiar. Finally I get down to the box, deep blue velvet and about the size of my hand. My mouth dropped when I opened it. I did a stunning impression of a fish out of water as my mouth flopped open and close several times. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ron's eyes go wide and a soft whistle come out of him.

"Harry, this is…wow..." I stutter.

"I thought you might like it, you seemed to like it at the shop," he sheepishly said.

"I love it," I launch at him and surprise him with a huge hug. I was aiming for his cheek, but instead my lips crashed onto his for the briefest of moments before shock set in as to what I had just done. He must have turned his head as I flung myself at him. I quickly pull away and ask him to put the necklace around my neck.

I then do a grand imitation of my mother, woe is me, as I rush to the mirror to see. There, lying around my neck is a small cluster of stones set in silver on a silver chain. The garnet and what look to be purple hued sapphires shimmer in the glow of the candles.

"Mate, glad she opened mine first. There's no following that," Ron said to Harry.

I turned around and shot a glare at him. Something about his tone though makes me wonder if he is referring to the necklace or the accidental kiss. Then again, why am I thinking about that?

I return to the sofa and curl up again under the blanket. The three of us stay there talking for hours. Just before I drift of to sleep as the boys discuss the finer points of Quidditch, again, I curl against Harry and I feel him draw the blanket closer around me.

* * *

_Author's Note: Consider this a balancing chapter for the previous short one. Don't forget to share your reviews. Happy thoughts are my personal favorite. Constructive criticism appreciated. Flames will be used to help keep Hermione warm._


	10. Snowballs

_The aging process has you firmly in its grasp_

_if you never get the urge to throw a snowball._

_Doug Larson_

Two weeks after returning from the Christmas holidays, Hogwarts was blanketed in snow. I felt as if there was a damper on my spirits as well. I just do not understand it. The holidays were wonderful. I had several lovely days with my parents. Christmas Eve with the boys was delightful. There was that strange kiss, but it was nothing, really. Then Christmas day was celebrated at the Burrow. The chaos that is several dozen people milling around aided by the latest products Weasley Wizarding Wheezes offers results in absolutely no coherent thought or time to dwell on anything! The few days following were a usual whirlwind of seeing friends and family. There was not much time to spend with just Harry and Ron. There was something different when it was just us in the flat. I think. I just am not sure if it is there or a figment of my imagination.

I did not realize many things during this time frame and one is that others noticed how things were a bit off for Harry and me.

"This is just ridiculous. Those two are utterly hopeless. At least with the Potters James realized his love. Harry seems to be taking after his mother for once. Hermione is supposed to be the brightest witch of this age. Bright! I'll say," Minerva thought to herself one day over supper. "Time to bring in those three devious ones."

Knowing that Harry and I would notice if they were taken out of our classes, Minerva sent Dobby to the Gryffindor common room that evening following the meal.

"Dobby has come to collect Miss Hart, Mr. Lewis, and Mr. Ravel, if you please."

"Oh, hi there. We're coming," Miranda said quite politely. Dobby bobbed his head, losing one of the socks previously hanging over his ear.

The house elf escorted the three to the Headmistress' office through some rarely used corridors to ensure that they would avoid being seen by either Harry or Hermione should they be out of their rooms at this point in the evening. The four made it without incident to the Headmistress McGonagall's offices.

"Knickerbocker Glory," said Dobby and the spiral staircase appeared.

"What's with the password?" wondered Nicholas.

"That my boy is not quite your business, however, we do have a very important matter at hand to deal with children," said a stern voice from behind a very large desk.

"Good evening Headmistress McGonagall," chorused the students. Dobby was about to return to the kitchens when the Headmistress said, "No, stay, Dobby, we may need your assistance in this matter."

What was amazing, well, at least to anyone who knew the house elf, was that he made no rejoinder. The normally profuse Dobby was actually quelled by the Headmistress. He had unwavering loyalty to her, perhaps now second only to Harry Potter, but he was a bit intimidated by her.

"Children, I have no exact knowledge of what occurred over the holidays, but I know I saw Professors Potter and Granger on Christmas morning and they were awkward then. The tension which they both feel, though neither particularly acknowledges, was present then and still is now. Frankly, I am losing patience with those two. Ideas?"

The three youths were surprised by the frankness and frustration of the normally taciturn Headmistress.

Anthony was the first to speak, "Exactly how much are we allowed to get away with, Headmistress?"

This was not exactly the response Minerva McGonagall was looking for, but she was willing to pursue the boy's line of thought at least for a moment.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Well, here's the general idea…" Anthony went on to outline the plan he had formed for the other four in the room.

Minerva McGonagall sighed, she was hesitant to agree to this, but saw that it just might work. "Fine. You will receive no punishments for any actions relating directly to this plan. If any of the other professors seek to discipline you, I will step in and claim the right to set the punishment in private. You will, of course, keep up the charade of my non-involvement and any punishment we may have to pretend to give you."

With that she concluded the conference of plotters with a review of everyone's role. Dobby was instructed to escort the Gryffindors back to their common room to avoid any problems with the prefects patrolling the halls.

The next day dawned clear, bright, and cold. The snow lay thick on the ground, refreshed by several centimeters that conveniently fell overnight. With the majority of older students spending their Saturday in Hogsmeade as it was the first Hogsmeade weekend since the holidays, only the young students were left to amuse themselves. Many wished to find that amusement outdoors.

Our three young Gryffindors put their plan into action after the older students were all gone. Using some of Dobby's special talents, they issued an anonymous challenge to each house.

Over the mantel of the fireplaces in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin appeared the following scroll:

_Quidditch is a noble sport_

_Yet few of us play this game_

_So today we issue this report_

_Not meant for those who are tame_

_All Houses meet for a fight_

_For snowballs will make the sky white_

**_First Annual Interhouse Snowball Fight!_**

Alas my dear young Gryffindors will never rival Shakespeare or Tennyson, yet it served the purpose. Within the hour all the first and second years poured out of the common rooms ready to wage war and defend their house honor.

Headmistress McGonagall played her role by bustling down the corridors to my rooms. There she found me reading the latest edition of _Transfiguration Weekly_.

"Hermione, you must go outside at once! All the children are having a snowball fight. They really do need supervision. I am going to gather a few more of the professors."

I sighed and bundled up in my warmest clothing and headed out to the grounds. A most chaotic scene greeted me.

Every single student not old enough to go to Hogsmeade was pelting snowballs at the nearest target. Those with horrific aim were employed in creating mammoth forts to build stockpiles of snowballs and keep prisoners of war. Scarves flew in the wind and bright red cheeks glowed.

"Professor Granger, we need your help! We can't get the fort quite right. Come and help!" shouted Anthony from the Gryffindor fort. Deciding that I could aid my house in what was a noble cause, I headed over to where Anthony was struggling with a large mound of snow.

"Mr. Lewis, don't forget that you have a wand. Why don't you levitate that snow to…right there," Hermione pointed to a particularly weak spot in the wall. After a few minutes of this, I had completely forgotten that I was a professor and not a student.

I was not the only one. Professor Sprout could be seen behind the Hufflepuff fort, doing much the same work as me. A few other professors chose to help their houses or milled around looking for a particular student in need of aid.

Once the fortifications looked strong enough to withstand the pelting they were receiving, I ventured forth to see what the battlefield looked like.

The students were still going strong. It seems they thrived in the cold air and the novelty of having professors playing in the snow with them fed their enthusiasm. As I was taking in the scene, I was completely ignorant of the fate about to befall me. The last thing I remember about the fight was laughing at a couple of Hufflepuffs who dropped an oversized snow ball they were forming on themselves.

Later I would learn what exactly had happened.

Seemingly from nowhere a compact snowball flew at me. Normally this would not be a problem, but it had ice as its center and was charmed to hit me square in the head with just enough force to knock me out. It was timed specifically to the moment that Harry emerged from the castle. Apparently he cried out, "Hermione," and rushed over to where I was.

Being a knock to the head, it did start to bleed which made for a dramatic scene on the snow. All the students stopped their antics to watch the new excitement. Our years of adventures and fighting evil gave Harry the ability to assess injuries quickly and accurately. Knowing it was a head injury there could be more to it, but it did not seem too desperate to Harry.

He picked me up in his arms and carried me to the Hospital Wing. There I was laid in one of the beds and given a variety of treatments to take care of the wound. Any further problems would have to wait until I awoke.

I did not wake up until nearly the dinner hour. Harry was by my side holding my hand, staring intently at me. When I was finally able to flutter my eyes open and moan an incoherent phrase which basically meant, "My head really hurts, what happened to it?" Harry squeezed my hand.

He whispered, "How are you feeling?"

A brief additional moan prefaced my answer of, "Probably like you did after some of those Quidditch games. What happened?"

"It seems one the snowballs went astray and due to the core being of ice, knocked you out cold. You've been sleeping for nearly seven hours," he softly replied.

"That explains my headache. Have you been here the whole time?" I asked

He got that sheepish look again as he said, "Yeah."

"Oh," I replied.

Outside the door to the Hospital Wing four people groaned quietly. We couldn't hear them inside the infirmary, luckily for us.

"Good grief, will those two ever get it?" asked Nicholas.

"They are so perfect for each other, yet they dance around afraid of what the other really feels. Even Nicholas sees that they love each other!" Miranda surprisingly declared.

"Hey!" Nicholas said.

"Sorry, mate, she's right," Anthony chuckled.

After a few minutes, I said, "I would really like to return to my rooms. Mind helping me?"

"Of course. Here we go," he said as he helped me from the bed onto my feet.

Still unsteady, I had to grasp his arm to keep from falling.

"Careful there! Here," Harry said as he put his arm firmly around my waist.

When his arm circled me, I felt a strange jolt. I wondered what potions I had been given and whether this could be an aftereffect. With Harry's support I was able to slowly make it to my rooms.

Three little imps followed far enough behind that we did not notice them.

"That did not work as well as it was supposed to," declared Miranda.

"Type to come up with another plan," Anthony said.

"I think it may have done some good though," Miranda thought out loud. "Rome was not built in a day you know."

"Huh?" asked Anthony.

"Ha, for once I get something you don't!" Nicholas triumphed. "It's a muggle phrase!"


	11. Mischief Managed with Music

_**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. For those missing Ron, he'll appear in the next chapter in all his glory and answer some questions it seems some of you have. That will be coming very soon as being relegated to the couch and watching chick flicks due to the flu leaves you with ample time to write. How can you get the flu in the middle of August?**_

_After silence,_

_that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible_

_is music._

_Aldous Huxley_

I found I had a nasty headache due to the snowball incident. Harry was such a love; he managed to carry me back to my rooms, settle me in bed, and then made sure I ate some supper. He sat by and watched as I ate sometimes offering conversation in that warm, low voice he can have at times. By the time I finished eating, I was fairly tired. Harry said goodnight, and like many nights before, he tucked the covers around me. Just before turning to leave, he kissed me on the cheek.

In my drowsy state I thought deep thoughts. I love these covers; the coverlet is so soft and warm. Maybe I should change the paper on the walls. It has been several years since I changed anything in the room. Harry is such a wonderful friend. He is always by my side. He holds my hand or takes my arm when we walk. I feel so safe with him, so warm. Why do I feel warm around him? Must be because of the drafty castle. I should wear the jumper from Ron tomorrow. I wonder what Harry is doing now…and with that I was sound asleep.

While I faded into soft dreams of which I cannot report the content as I do not remember my dreams most of the time, three young Gryffindors and their Headmistress debated a new scheme. With the indubitable aid of Dobby, the ever faithful and well intentioned house elf, the scheme was much more intricate than the previous attempt. Lucky for my dreams, I was utterly unaware of this.

The next morning was a repeat of the previous day, clear and cold. Minerva excused me from, or rather ordered me not to do, my rounds. I stayed in my rooms for the morning, correcting essays and preparing lessons for the coming week. I ventured forth to the Great Hall for the noon meal. I joined the other professors and thanked them for their well wishes of a speady recovery. From the jokes flying about the head table, it seems I was not the only casualty of the day. A few other professors found themselves pelted by snowballs from students seeking revenge for poor grades, teasing their favorite professor, or simple being in the line of fire between two very enthusiastic students. All told, the first annual interhouse snowball fight was an immense success. I was proud to hear Gryffindor won. How that was determined, I cannot say, but apparently all the houses agreed it was a fair assessment. Plans were already being laid by all the students for the next year.

Following the meal I decided to stretch my legs a bit. I went back to my rooms and did put on my gift from Ron. The deep red of the jumper went so well with the necklace from Harry that I just had to put on the jewelry too. To help cover up this bit of frippery; I wound a scarf around my neck. A simple silk one from my grandmother and appropriate for the chilly weather in the castle. That's what I told myself.

I strolled around the halls, noticing this and that. After about half an hour, I was fully lost in thought. Suddenly a little blonde head appeared in my path. Before I could question where she came from, she tugged on my arm as she cried, "Professor Granger! Professor Granger! Nick is caught in a room and we don't know how to get him out! We were just walking around after studying and suddenly he got sucked into a room and we can't get him out!" She had huge tears welling in her eyes and a look of abject despair on her face. Realizing that the many rooms and closets of Hogwarts contain not always safe items, I began to race after her. I did not entirely pay attention to where we were going. We ran for several minutes and then we stopped.

"The door was just here! Where did it go!" she cried as she paced back and forth. My concern for such a young student to be trapped in an unknown room with unknown items covered my analytical skills. In a moment they would return, just not quite in time.

Suddenly she saw the door, "There it is, in there Professor Granger!" Just as suddenly as she saw the door, I had several small hands on my back pushing me through the door and a rush of something flew around me as I inelegantly fell through the doorway.

I instantly stood up and reached for the pocket of my skirt where I knew my wand was. There was no pocket to my skirt. In fact, I no longer had on a skirt. I was in a dress. A red dress the exact color of the jumper from Ron. Where was my wand? I reached to my throat and felt the necklace. Despite all the other surprises, at least I still had that.

I looked around the room as I heard a voice, "Well, it's nice to see that I am no longer alone in my imprisonment."

Still startled from the previous few minutes of chasing and falling, I did not immediately place the voice. The room was dim, lit only by some large pillar candles and the roaring fireplace across the room. The other figure, a man, got up from the small sofa and crossed the room.

"That was quite the graceful entrance, my lady," he said.

"Oh, Harry, thank Merlin it is you. What is going on here?" I ask. Then I notice something. While I am wearing a dress that is much less conservative than my normal choice, Harry is also a bit more dashing than usual. He is in midnight black dress robes that blend with the shadows in the room and make him even more mysterious than he already is. I look down to better examine my own ensemble. The dress is simple; at least whoever is responsible for this little incident gave me that. A red halter-top, though the neckline is a bit more daring than I would like, fitted to the waist and then it softly flairs out until the skirt ends somewhere at calf length. As I think about it, it reminds me of that picture of Marilyn Monroe. I also realize that my hair is not in the braid it previously was. Instead, my hair is now a pile of curls and who knows what else. Apparently there are some pins in it with a bit of sparkle on them as I see them reflected in Harry's glasses as he approaches me.

"Are you okay? It sounded like you landed a bit uncomfortably," he enquired.

"I'm fine. I am just thoroughly confused as to what is going on, where we are, and why we are here, and why we are dressed in these clothes!" I let out in a rush.

"Well, Mione, it seems three little imps discovered the Room of Requirement, I would think you would know this room well by now."

I roll my eyes. "Of course, she wasn't pacing, she was opening the door."

"Yes, I had Nicholas and Anthony drag me here saying Miranda was locked in a class room. By the way, the door won't reappear. I tried every wandless spell I could think of and so we are trapped here until the powers that be let us go."

"Same story for me, except Miranda was the one leading me here." I think for a moment and chuckle, "She's good. She was crying and everything."

"While I know the where we are, the rest of it, I haven't figured out. I can't figure out how they charmed or transfigured our robes. The spell work would be too complicated for first years, even three as devious as them." Harry trailed off into his own thoughts for a moment.

"I think I can provide a bit of help there, or rather state, they must have outside help from someone older, more talented, or more experienced than them. I wish I knew who…" Now I trail off into thought.

While we were stating the obvious, some subtle changes had occurred in the room. A small table appeared in a corner covered by a silk fabric. A bowl with a single scarlet rose appeared on the table. Small candles floated in the bowl, charmed to avoid the rose which was suspended in the center of the bowl. Soft music began to play, old music. There were not words to this music, but the music had meaning.

As the music entered our senses, Harry and I stilled. Our conversation and thoughts were silenced. We listened. We stood there in our unusual clothes and unusual circumstances, listening to the music that came from nowhere and everywhere.

When Harry said, "May I have this dance? A woman who looks as stunning as you must grace the dance floor." I jumped.

I stammered out something akin to a yes. He took my hand, spun me out, and then pulled me back. His hand continued to clasp mine, firmly, yet with such gentleness. His other hand fell to my waist.

"How do you know how to dance?" I ask softly.

He doesn't answer for a moment. Finally I hear, "After that embarrassing attempt fifth year, I asked Molly to teach out. I swore her to secrecy. Ron would never let me hear the end of it, if he knew his mum taught me to dance. But I think she secretly was thrilled," he grinned at the end.

I am positive Molly Weasley was thrilled to say the very least at teaching Harry how to dance. From the first moment she met the boy on the way to his first year here, she had all but legally adopted him into the family. When we came home from the War, we saw that it was official as there were new hands on the Weasley family clock. As we walked in the door of the Burrow after the Final Battle, we watched the hands labeled "Ron," "Harry," and "Hermione" move from mortal peril to home.

We danced for some time together. We were polite dancers. We kept our space and our silence. After a while, we noticed new appearances in the room.

On either side of the small table, two small chairs appeared. The chairs were covered with gold silk that matched the soft silk of the table. Deep red chiffon ties held the silk to the chairs. Fragile china, edged in gold sat with fine sets of silver and crystal goblets and Champaign flutes.

"Mmm…I think it is time for dinner," I murmur.

As I say the words, the china is suddenly filled with the first course of our meal. Harry leads me over to the table, pulls out the chair for me, and then sits down across from me. Over what must be the next two hours, we enjoy a meal like none other I have had. The food was exquisite and often a blending of our favorites. At least we both love chocolate so dessert was simple enough for whoever planned this little event. The flourless chocolate cake was just to die for in my opinion.

Over dinner we talked, just as we always do over meals. It was just as our friendship always was. I found myself glancing up at Harry frequently. The glances were short, secretive. It was odd behavior for me, but I found myself wanting to make sure that he was still there. That this was still really what my evening was like. Sometimes these glances would be met by Harry's deep green eyes. I could not quite read the expression in them, which was odd. After all these years, I could read Harry more easily than _Hogwarts, A History_.

After that incredible dessert we were somewhat lost with what to do. Neither of us had our wands, so until our little captors decided to let us out or our fearless Headmistress discovered the situation, we were trapped.

We noticed the music again in the silence that fell between us. The music was a bit slower, softer.

"Dance with me?" Harry asked quite shyly as he stood next to me holding out his hand.

"Of course, Harry," I said taking his hand.

This time as he spun me around, and twirled me back into his arms, I found myself a bit closer to him. His other hand was not at my waist, but firmly placed on the small of my back. The dancing was not so polite now. There was something behind or within it. Something, that despite my intelligence, I do not know what it is.

Every time I spun or shifted while dancing, I found myself edging ever so slowly closer to Harry. It was as if an unseen force was drawing us together. Sometimes he would pull me closer, exerting a gentle pressure on my back until I moved just a breath nearer. Other times I would make my step ever so slightly larger than necessary so I would inch closer.

Before too long, our clasped hands sat on his chest, over his heart and his other arm completely encircled my waist. My head drifted down finding a comfortable home on his shoulder. Soon his cheek was resting on top of forehead.

We stayed like that for days it seemed, cliché as that is. I did not process that best friends do not dance like this. I did not process that I wanted to stay like this forever. I did not wonder what this all meant. All I did was move with the music, caught in Harry's arms.

Neither of us noticed a plain, wood door appear in the far wall. Our entire world was made up simply of each other and this inexplicable newness. We continued in each other's arms moving gently with the wordless music, saying something to each other which we just cannot quite understand yet.

As the music slows still more, with only a haunting line of a cello lingering in the room, I pull my head back to look at Harry. He looks down at me. I forget how tall he is sometimes. As he stares at me, I see something change in his eyes. Slowly he lowers his head to the point where our eyes are locked. My lips part in surprise at this, despite its unhurried pace. With deliberate, yet gentle movement, Harry's lips meet mine.

This is not the accidental kiss of Christmas Eve. This is a kiss like none I have ever received. Viktor, Ron, all those others I dated, none kissed me like this. In Harry's kiss was a depth I did not know you could find. I lived in that kiss for a moment. Then my eyes flew open and I flew from the room.


	12. Weasley Wisdom

_Even a clock that doesn't work_

_is right twice a day._

_Polish Proverb_

I was never athletic and most assuredly never will be. However, what just occurred in that room was enough to give me strength to run for an eternity and that was just what I intended to do. I ran through the castle to the nearest exit and out onto the grounds. In my haste I did not notice the snow and cold biting at my feet which were clad in the dainty heels. I did not feel the wind lash into my arms or try to freeze the tears on my face. I had not noticed as I dashed through the door, I had acquired my jumper and with it my wand. All I knew is that I had to run so I could get to the one place I knew I could find normalcy.

When I finally reached the edge of the Hogwarts grounds I grabbed my wits about me and apparated to the London flat. With a loud pop I arrived in the entry way. No lights were on, except in the sitting room. I could hear that a film was on the telly. I figured Ron must have had the evening free and was relaxing. I was not expecting the sight I was faced with as I entered the room.

There was Ron, sprawled on the couch with a woman in his arms, each watching the film _Oliver!_ with rapt attention. Apparently the music was enough to cover the pop from my apparition, but the pause in the song was enough for the two to hear my shocked gasp.

Ron nearly dumped the girl on the ground as he launched up, wand ready. Not having anything to say at the situation, he very well could have hexed me as I stood in shocked numbness.

"Great Merlin, Mione! What are you trying to do to me?" he exclaimed. "Blimey, you look a sight. I mean you look gorgeous and all that, but you look like something dragged through the snow."

I still was too flabbergasted to utter a coherent word. I sort of glanced over to the young woman who was now standing up next to Ron. She gave him a not so subtle elbow in the side. "Oh! This is Anne. Umm, well, Mione, she's my girlfriend."

"Goodness Ron, you are hopeless!" Anne said as she came around the sofa and took my hand to shake it. My cold clammy hand managed to move up and down with hers.

"I am Anne Wright. Ron and I have been dating since just after you and Harry left for the second term I think. He talks about you two incessantly. I know it is what a girl in my position always says, but I feel like I know you already. Ron lets me go on about the shows I am in and I let him tell endless stories about the adventures you three get into. I think I have the better end of the deal." She managed to get that all out in one huge breath. "Oh, I am an actress. I've been in several shows I think Ron said you've seen."

Here I glance over to Ron. My eyebrow shoots up as the last five shows she has been in happen to be the last five shows to which he dragged Harry and me. The last one she lists, the one she was in about two years ago, was the one that I made the boys go see with me. I remember Ron now commenting on how beautiful the actress was who played the younger sister. My eyebrow is now permanently working on Ron as it reaches new heights seeking an explanation.

He sort of does the male version of a nervous giggle, the chuckle turned cough. At this I begin to come out of my stupor a bit more and notice the condition of the flat. I can see the flat. There's neither debris left lying around nor any noxious fumes emitting from the kitchen or closets.

Realizing how rude I have been thus far, I turn to Anne. "Forgive me; I've had a bit of an unusual evening. It is truly a pleasure to meet you Anne. Any woman who can get this git to clean up the flat and behave himself has my full and hearty approval."

Here Anne laughed, Ron huffed, and I finally smiled. "I'm glad you do approve, Hermione. Ron thinks the world of you and Harry and I would hate it if you did not like me."

At Harry's name, my face fell again. Ron and Anne both noticed the dramatic change in my demeanor. I did not notice a quick exchange occur between them as they wordlessly decided a few things.

Anne then said, "Ron, I think I need to head home. I have an early rehearsal tomorrow morning and it is really quite late. I will see you later." She pecked him on the cheek and saw herself out the door. Lost in myself again, I did not hear her leave or process that she walked through the door and did not apparate or floo anywhere. Those questions would come later.

Ron came to stand right in front of me. The idiot is just too tall, I thought as he turned me around by my shoulders and steered me over to the sofa. He then gently pushed me down so I sat. He found my favorite blanket and threw it over my lap. I still had yet to utter a word since Harry's name was brought into the conversation.

"Hermione, look at me," Ron gently pulled my chin around so I could look him in the eye as he sat next to me. "I know something is terribly wrong, but I need you to tell me what it is. Are you hurt? Did something happen at Hogwarts? Is Harry okay?"

At Harry's name I break into tears. These are no small tears, these are the tears I abhor, the sort of tears that come down in buckets. Ron, though completely befuddled still, pulls me into a hug. He wisely says nothing, just hugs me while I sob.

The tears begin to abate and Ron looks again at me for an answer as to what brought me to the flat so unexpectedly. I hiccup, sob, and croak out, "Harry, … he… kiss… dance… lock…" and the tears over take it all.

While fourteen years of my friendship and even more years as Ginny's brother, Ron still had immense difficulty translating that rather incoherent explanation for my bedraggled state. It was simple to tell when he understood, his head jerked back and he exclaimed, "Harry and you danced and then you kissed!"

"Yes," I said, though it came out in another sob.

I could hear Ron muttering under his breath but I only caught a bit, "Finally, git, obvious."

"What Ron?" I ask, slowly coming back to reality.

"Nothing, Mione. Now why don't you tell me what happened? Start at the beginning." he instructs.

I then tell him the entire story in all great detail. Ron interrupts occasion for clarification. Once he stopped me to go get us a couple mugs of cocoa and some biscuits.

"…And then I ran," I concluded.

"Blimey," he concluded. He sat there and thought for a few minutes.

"Mione, why did you run away?" he finally asked.

I shift in my seat and mumble, "I don't know."

"Hermione Granger, those words never come from you. You know exactly why you ran, now tell me," he ordered.

"I was afraid," I mumble again.

"What were you afraid of?" Ron asks.

"I don't..." I glance at Ron and see I will not get away with that answer. "What the kiss meant." I sigh.

"Why would you be afraid of what the kiss meant?" he patiently asks. Where did all this patience of Ron's come from anyway? Here was the idiot who screamed out an invitation to Fleur our fifth year and now he is calmly sitting here helping me with my relationship issues?

"I was afraid that I meant it and he didn't," I hurry out before I can really think about what the words mean.

"So you are afraid that you care more about Harry than he does for you?"

"Sort of…"

"Sort of what, Hermione?"

"I am afraid that I love Harry and he doesn't love me as anything more than a friend. I mean, we've been friends forever; this sort of thing doesn't happen in real life. It is like that movie and even the woman who wrote it said it never happens in real life. I mean twelve hours ago we were friends and I never thought I would ever fall in love with him. I am afraid that he was hexed or jinxed or something and that he only kissed me because he had to or he felt sorry for me or," I find my tongue and my excuses quite quickly.

"Or you are afraid that he loves you," Ron says.

That stopped my tongue and my excuses. "Hermione, I know very little beyond the fine game of Quidditch, but there are two things that I know are absolutely true. First, that you love Harry with a very special love that I have only seen in a few people. Second, that Harry loves you with the same, special love. When you two look at each other and you don't realize it, I see the same expression I see between my parents. I saw the same expression between Harry's parents in a photograph in the album Hagrid gave him. Hermione, if I know nothing else, it is that you two love each other."

To say I was shocked is to say that the Atlantic Ocean really is a pond. My mouth moves with no sound.

"Hermione, I am sure that this freak appearance of empathy will pass and my emotional capabilities will again reduce to that of a teaspoon, but for now, I can see that you need to come to terms with this and so does Harry, if he hasn't already."

I sit there, stunned, and a mite embarrassed that he remembered those rather harsh words. He really could be quite sweet sometimes. I wandered back into my own thoughts.

"Hermione, you need to go back. They will wonder where you are and you need to think about this for yourself and what you are going to do."

I nod and slowly get up from the sofa. Ron gives me one of his old cloaks to wear so I won't freeze as I walk back through the Hogwarts grounds. With a hug from Ron as he says, "You're smart Hermione, but for once, listen to what your heart is saying and not your head." Just before I leave, Ron tosses out, "By the way, in about two hours you'll be wondering why Anne didn't apparate or floo. She's a muggle. Her aunt, a witch, raised her after her parents were killed during the War. We'll talk more later."

I apparate and make my way to my rooms without anyone noticing my reappearance at the school. I shut the door and collapse into my chair. As I fold into myself, it seems the world as I know it has just collapsed and I am left with pieces of a puzzle. I was not sure what this puzzle was or how in all that was Magic I was to put it together again.


	13. Realizations

_Love is the extremely difficult realization_

_that something other than oneself is real._

_Iris Murdoch_

I sat, in my crumpled dress with the curls damped by snow wheedling out of the hair pins. No tears came. I was surprised. I actually went for several moments without a significant thought. Finally a small practical voice that strongly resembled my mother encouraged me to change out of cold clothes. Without better options, I followed that advice and put on my oldest pajamas and those ridiculous slippers. I pulled on the wrap from Ron and sat back down in front of the hearth in my sitting room.

I lost myself in wordless thought for several minutes. The flames soothed me and warmed my chilled body. Slowly my mind began to process the evening, or rather relive the evening.

The comforting warmth of the fire and the wrap put me in Harry's arms again. When my eyes drifted shut, I could feel his hand around my waist, breath on my ear. There was that scent. It must have been Harry, but it was not cologne. He never wore cologne. There were hints of fresh air, broom polish, clean laundry, and a touch of something unknown.

I leaned further into the depths of the chair. I felt so small and lost. Harry seemed larger, stronger, more grown than I thought. How could someone I have seen nearly every day for more than half my life have changed that dramatically over the course of a few hours? He was not suave or smooth like a few of the playboys that flocked to the only female member of the Golden Trio seeking time in the limelight. Harry will never be completely at ease around women. Then again, he was so self-assured tonight. It was as if he knew exactly what was happening and exactly what he wanted. He never stumbled over his words. He never lost his thoughts.

I conjured a cup of cocoa for myself. I was a bit distracted. The heat surprised me. The feel of Harry's lips on my own began to haunt me. Harry and I routinely kissed. Cheeks, foreheads, noses, once he even kissed my elbow after I knocked it against a shelf. However, never had our lips met prior to that Christmas Eve incident. What was in that moment on the sofa? What was the power of that moment in the Room of Requirement?

I sat, mute, thoughtless, immobile for near unto a quarter hour.

Ron must be right. Those are words I thought I would never utter, most especially in regards to his insight into a relationship. I must love Harry. How does the love for a friend turn to this though? How did I go from loving him as the brother I never had, to loving him like I do now? Where was the moment I missed? What was the word spoken to cast this spell no other wizard had managed?

I love Harry Potter. I do not love the Boy Who Lived. He was a brooding, confused, boy looking for his place in the world that he was destined to save. That boy was forced to grow up much too quickly. I do not love the Boy Who Conquered. He was a boy who did what he must and faced great evil and grief at much too young of an age. That boy was a cardboard hero, adored by the world yet less substantial than a ghost.

I love Harry Potter. I love the Harry who knows how I like to drink my coffee in the morning and my tea in the evening. This young man notices and loves the little things in life. He knows that the horrific and the wonderful pass, but the every day moments make life worth living. I love the Harry who spoils his friends. This young man grew up without a loving family, yet created one from his friends. He knows that love and friendship are eternal and priceless. I love the Harry who argues with Ron about some insanely insignificant point of Quidditch until they both are hollering and red in the face. This young man is passionate, yet thoughtful. He will argue about Quidditch with Ron, but then buy him a firewhiskey and laugh about the film we watched the night before. I love the Harry who will sit silently next to me. This young man can be in the moment without having to fill it with mindless babble or useless movement. He knows how important it is to simply be present to those we care about.

I love Harry.

I found peace with that statement. There was peace, but it was much like the peace that resulted after the War. In the newfound peace, rebuilding and reordering was necessary. My experiences there also taught me, that the process will take a bit of time. My life now, is not as it was when I awoke this morning.

As I assimilated all of this into my new understanding, questions began to arise. Ron was right again, I thought of Anne and began questioning who she was, where she was from, how she knew of magic, and so forth. At least the dear boy knows me well enough to save me from worrying too much over that. However, he would have some lengthy explanations to make as to why I never heard of her until tonight. Then, my mild amusement as I envisioned how I would make Ron uncomfortable during the telling of his romance disappeared. A new question dominated my thoughts. A terrible question. A question that could destroy my life. Did Harry love me?


	14. Out Loud

_Anything more than the truth would be too much._

_Robert Frost_

"Does Harry love me?" I repeated, this time to the empty room. The pressures of this seemingly never ending night finally pushed me over the edge and I was talking aloud to myself. I had begun pacing in front of the fire with my hair streaming into my face and obscuring my view of the world.

"There is no possible way. I'm Hermione. I am the friend, the confidant. I am the bushy haired, orthodontia needing, book worm turned slightly less obnoxious professor. I am the friend, the girl next door. Guys do not fall in love with girls like me. I am the one he goes to to get advice about how to get the girl. I'm not the girl he wants to get."

"Yes you are."

Those last three words did not come from my mouth.

"You are my friend. You are my confidant. You were slightly bushy haired and perhaps in need of orthodontia work and most assuredly a book worm. You are slightly less obnoxious and a wonderful professor. You are my friend. You are the girl who lives in the room next to me. Guys do not fall in love with girls like you. But I hope, after all, that somewhere along the way, I've managed to become more than a guy. You are the one I would normally go to get advice from about the girl. You are the girl I want. You are the woman this man has fallen in love with, Hermione."

There is only so much a woman can take before all hope of rational, coherent, unemotional thought leaves her. I officially passed that level somewhere around the word, "Yes." I collapse, in the most inelegant heap upon the floor. Huge tears spring from eyes and continue at an utterly appalling rate with no hope for any abatement. I am crying so hard I have trouble breathing and begin to hiccup. In the small part of my mind which was recording this for the next time someone asked me what my most embarrassing moment was, I registered that my eyes must be all red and puffy as they get when I cry, my hair was a mixture of a nest and the fine style it was before, any my pajama top did not match my bottoms.

When you see those movies where the heroine meets the hero's declaration of love in a state worthy of a fashion magazine photo shoot, it's utter and complete rubbish. I have never been particularly graceful and it seems that when falling in love I must continue that pattern. Love is messy and a declaration of love is no less tidy. Here I sit; more like piled in a stack, on the floor by the hearth in mismatched plaid flannel and Mickey Mouse slippers with running make up and completely destroyed hair while the love of my life makes the most romantic statement a man could make.

To prove my point and make me feel ever so slightly better, Harry was standing just as disheveled and unsure as me. No longer in his dress robes, he was wearing a pair of old, torn jeans, one of Mrs. Weasley's famous sweaters (with an H as he was family), and his hair completely standing on end. His glasses sat crooked on his face and he kept fidgeting, not knowing what the meaning of my rather unique reaction is.

I finally realize that the tears and hiccups are not going to stop any time soon so verbalization is not going to help the poor boy out. From my awkward position on the floor I simply reach a hand up to him. He thinks I need help standing up, wrong he is. Only due to his surprise, I am able to pull him down next to me on the floor. He winces as his knees hit the stone. I have not seen him this discomfited since we were teenagers. He kneels next to me as I continue to cry and hiccup. Finally I take both his arms in my hands and wrap them around me as I allow these never ending tears to run their course.

Still a bit inept, but quickly catching on, Harry pulls me tight against his chest and holds me. He rocks back a bit so that he can sit and not kneel. Once adjusted, he pulls me onto his lap and rocks me as the tears begin to slow and my breath returns to normal. As my hysteria trails into silence, we both sit there, wondering.

"Hermione, I am not entirely sure what that …" Harry searches for a word to describe my little moment that will not result in me becoming upset again. A word could apparently not be found. He continued, "Was all about. I meant what I said. I don't know how it happened or when it happened or why. All I know is somewhere you went from being my best friend who happened to be a girl to being the girl I loved who happened to be my best friend."

The same small part of me that recognized the extreme level of embarrassment a few moments ago recognized that here was Harry being extremely eloquent, poetic, and honest on the same night that Ronald Weasley completely understood a relationship issue. At some point I would have to further examine this phenomenon.

"Mione, might you, even just a bit, care for me in the same way?" he asks.

How can he even wonder? Here he sits with his arms around me and my head tucked in the crook of his neck and shoulder. I pulled him to me. I responded to that life altering kiss.

Oh, but I did run away after that kiss. I have been his friend for fourteen years. Lest we forget, he is male and I am female and the male of the species rarely understand the workings of the female.

Harry looks a bit green. Given that we are in a darkened room in front of a fireplace, he must really be green. Why? Oh, I have been rambling to myself instead of answering him.

"Oh, Harry, there's more than just a bit," I say in his ear as I hug him with as much strength as I can muster. "Somewhere along the way, I managed to fall in love with you, too."

If this were one of those romance novels that I must admit even I have read, this is the point in the evening where we would commence snogging each other senseless as the students say. However, let me repeat, life and love are not in the neat packages found in films and books. We simply sat there together. We simply held each other and our fresh understanding.

"Harry, my bum is a bit chilly from sitting on the stone. Can we move to the sofa?" I ask around an hour later.

He laughs. Taking an entirely unromantic moment, created by me, Harry turns it into one by simply lifting me up and carrying me over to the sofa. He sits down with me still in his arms, arranges himself, and then puts me down next to him. His arms wind around me to hold me tight on the rather narrow furniture, not that I mind. Our position is now fairly reminiscent of how I found Ron and Anne.

"Did you know Ron has a girlfriend?" I ask Harry.

"What!" he exclaims and I feel the air rush out of him.

"After I ran tonight, I went to the flat. He was there with this girl, Anne. Apparently she's a muggle raised by an aunt who is a witch," I pause and smirk. "She is an actress…In musicals."

"Oh that explains it. I knew there had to be a reason why our Ron suddenly became a fan of _West Side Story_, _Guys and Dolls, _and _South Pacific_."

"They were watching _Oliver!_" I continue.

I feel the rumble of his laugh before I hear it. I can most definitely get used to this.

"He is never going to let me forget that he was right, twice." I was not going to tell Harry all about my conversation with Ron quite yet. It was not necessary. A yawn escaped from me. "How am I ever going to manage to teach my classes tomorrow morning?"

"You can't fall asleep on me yet. Don't worry, if that note on your table there is like the one that was in my rooms, all Transfiguration, DADA, and Charms classes are cancelled. Minerva said something about Peeves causing problems. Besides, we have some serious matters to discuss," Harry solemnly states.

I tense for a moment. What is he talking about?

"There are three young first years wreaking havoc on the lives of the much older, wiser, and more mischievous professors. They also had help. There is Marauder blood in me, Mione, such a deed as this evening requires a payback prank. Since you are part of what can only be considered the second generation of Marauders, all apologies to Fred and George, you must have some in put into the retribution," Harry continued.

I laugh.

"I love how I felt your laugh bubble up," Harry says. Merlin, we even love the same things about each other. "The other issue is who else is involved. It has to be someone with some considerable magical ability, knowledge of the Room of Requirement…"

I must admit to tuning out a bit what Harry is going on about as my mind is now functioning again and turning over the problem at hand. The other person or person must be knowledgeable about the Room of Requirement and able to cause food to appear in it. That person or another had to have the ability to transfigure our robes from our normal robes to formal attire. Our classes for tomorrow are cancelled.

"Harry, isn't it a bit of a coincident that the day after all of this happened that our two classes happened to be cancelled? And the only other class is the one professor Minerva could simply say class is canceled and the professor would not question her? And that our robes were transfigured?" I ask Harry.

Slowly he begins to see where this line of thought is going. "Mione, are you saying…"

"Yes, Harry, I think our own Minerva McGonagall has entered into the scheming of our first years."

"Blimey!" Harry states. Why do he and Ron use that word? What exactly does it mean? There are so many other words that would better describe his thoughts and he uses, "blimey."

"That does not quite cover it all. There's still the matter of the food. Growing up with a mum who can really cook well, I know the difference between transfigured, charmed, or conjured food and real food. That meal tonight was prepared in a kitchen and not with a regular spell."

"I would bet the entire content of my vault at Gringott's that our favorite little house elf is in on this. He has been surprisingly absent from my chambers the last few weeks and next to me, his loyalty would be Minerva. He has to be in on this too!"

"Harry, I think we have our five perpetrators. Miranda, Anthony, Nicholas, Minerva, and Dobby. Now the question remains, what are we going to do with them?" I ask with a coy expression.

"That will be answered in a moment, for now, you look simply too charming to escape without being kissed," he states as he leans in and softly kisses me. That kiss, unlike our previous two does not abruptly end, but rather lengthens and deepens. Several minutes pass as we familiarize ourselves a bit more with each other and explore our recently acquired abilities to leave each other senseless. After several minutes when the world seemed to stop existing outside of the small sofa and when the need to breathe made us pull apart, I put my head back down on Harry's chest.

"I will definitely be able to get used to this," I say.

"I agree," he says.

"I didn't realize I said that out loud," I murmur.

"You've said many things out loud tonight that I don't think you intended to. Yet, I find myself immensely grateful for those slips of your lovely lips," here he quickly brushed my lips with his. "I sincerely hope the pattern will continue."

"If my talking aloud without knowledge of it will result in such kisses from you, Professor Potter, I can assure you the pattern will become a habit quite quickly."

Here I was silenced by another kiss. Then we resume the silence and the enjoyment of the moment.

Then the Marauder blood returns, "So what are we going to do about those impish meddlers?" I can't believe he just called Minerva 'impish.'

I must have some Marauder blood in me, because I smirk with deviousness worthy of Padfoot and a plan founded on some ingenious thought worthy of Moony. With my own Prongs here before me, this was going to be priceless.


	15. Setting the Stage

_All the world's a stage_

_And all the men and women merely players;_

_They have their exits and their entrances;_

_And one man in his time plays many parts_

_Shakespeare_

"What in all that is magic is going on?" I wondered as I slowly came awake. What am I doing on the sofa? Why am I not in my bed? How did I manage to not fall off the sofa? At this point my senses finish waking up and I realize that I am firmly held around my stomach by a very strong arm and my head is not resting on a stationary pillow but rather on someone's chest which is slowly moving with each breath. At that, I finally remember last night's events. With that thought a broad smile crosses my face and a sigh escapes.

"I hope that was a contented sigh," Harry said. "I must say I love waking up this way."

"Mmmm…me too," I say with the grin still in place.

Harry kisses my neck and manages to hold me a bit tighter. I oblige him and snuggle into his arms even further.

"Those years of Quidditch paid off. If you kept me from tossing myself off this little sofa last night, you must have kept a death grip on me," I say.

Harry just laughed. "So what are we going to do with our unexpected day off?"

"As much as I want to stay just like this for, oh, just about forever, I thought of a plan that the son of a Marauder might like to partake in. After all, our honor is at stake."

"When you put it like that, how can a boy refuse?"

I proceeded to outline my idea and the steps we need to take today. They really should know better than to give us a whole day with no obligations. "Oh, Harry, all this could be foiled by that dratted Map those 'imps' have!"

"Actually, I solved that problem without even realizing how fortuitous my action was. Last night, before I came here I used that spell we created to remove ourselves from the Map. Remember when we didn't want others to find us seventh year we created that little charm? Well, I managed to think in the midst of all that last night before I came to your room and also realized that I did not want those children or Minerva to know where I was. I went so far as to charm you off the Map too. Given our current situation, I am quite glad those first years have no idea where I spent the night. Hardly a good example to set for them," he grinned.

"Well done, Harry," I twist my head around and kiss his nose. "That does make today much simpler. So…" I continue with the day's plans.

"Alright, you go and get your cloak and put on some Muggle clothes. I'll go get ready. Come back in half an hour and make sure no one sees you." Harry got up from the sofa and after a kiss went to his own chambers. Even in the rumpled clothes he was wearing after sleeping on the sofa, he was still the most handsome man.

Precisely thirty minutes later he was back in my rooms wearing jeans and a button down shirt. I was ready in jeans and a jumper. We then proceeded to sneak out of the castle, just like when we were children, under the cover of Harry's cloak. Once we were free of the grounds we came out from under the cloak.

"Okay, so you will talk to Ron about his side of the plan. I'll go to the twin's shop and get them in on this. Convincing them to make a return visit should not be too hard." I smirk here, as if the twins would pass up the chance for one of the biggest practical jokes ever to be played in the halls of Hogwarts. "Then let's meet at Ginny's to have our final planning session. Everything will have to go smoothly if this will be believable. In fact, if our past wasn't as dramatic as it is, I don't think anyone would fall for this."

"Mione, the plan is brilliant and with those three involved it will be a performance as such has never been seen!" Harry kissed me again before apparating back to our London flat; from there he would be able to find Ron. I apparated to the twin's shop.

"Fred! George! Where are you? Is this anyway to run a shop? Ignoring your customers!" I yell from the doorway.

"Why Professor Granger, to what do we owe this surprise? I did not realize that today was a Hogsmeade day," Fred says as he steps from the store room.

"My dear boy, it most assuredly is not a Hogsmeade day. It seems that we have finally rubbed off on our favorite bookworm," George replied as he came up behind me carrying what I would assume is their lunch.

"What could possibly cause Professor Granger to leave her classes and grace us with her presence?" Fred asked.

"How would you like to participate in the practical joke that will never be forgotten in the entire history of Hogwarts?" I ask with a coy smile and all the assurance that these two will not say no.

I am not disappointed.

"Oi! Ron! You here?" Harry hollers about the same time I am calling the twins.

"Harry! What are you doing here? What's going on? Is Hermione okay?" he grills Harry as he steps out from his bedroom.

"Mione is fine. The short of it is that we worked out a few things and well, mate, I hope you're fine with this, but she and I are sort of together now," Harry spit out quite quickly.

"Took you two long enough. And they all said I was dense!"

"How would you like to get back a bit of that reputation?" Harry raised his eyebrow.

Ron grinned, "I'm in."

The four of us appeared within a few moments of each other at Ginny's home. Luckily she was there and the five of us were able to draw up the plans for the next few weeks. The timing was going to be tricky, but luckily our three conspirators were very flexible. The twins were willing to shut down their shops at a moment's notice and Ginny worked from home making her a perfect ally. After tea Harry and I returned to Hogwarts. The first act of our little drama was set to unfold this evening at dinner.

We entered the castle without detection. Bless that cloak! Each of us returned to our rooms and changed into our robes. I returned to my older robes, the ones most often compared to Minerva's. This costume change was quite necessary.

My entrance in the Great Hall for the evening meal acquired only slightly more notice than usual. Namely the Headmistress and three young Gryffindors noted my arrival alone and my wardrobe choice. The three students quickly began a whispered conversation of which I seemingly took no notice. As Minerva was in conversation with a few other professors, I simply nodded and took my seat.

Harry entered and got the same notice, well, I must be honest, a bit more notice. Even I saw many of the female students look up with hero worship in their eyes. I inwardly grinned knowing their daydreams would soon be crushed, but outwardly I took absolutely no notice of Harry's presence. He sat down six chairs from me as I did not save him his customary seat next to mine. We each sat eating our meals in slight, superficial conversation with our peers sitting around us. Neither acknowledged the other's presence during the entire course of the meal.

Just before I finished, Minerva sought me. "Professor Granger, I was hoping we could speak in my office this evening. I have to resolve one small remaining problem first, but I would like to meet in half an hour's time. Is this acceptable?"

"Of course, I will see you in thirty minutes," I replied.

Harry observed this just before he left. I finished my conversation with the professors I was speaking with before leaving. For the first meal since Harry began teaching, we did not speak. This behavior was noted by many of the staff and a few students. Our farce was proceeding as planned, it was as if the orchestra had just finished tuning and begun the overture.

Instead of waiting to go to the Headmistress's office, I went immediately after the meal. If I could get one last accomplice in on our little plot, everything would go much more smoothly and provide a bit of reconnaissance for us.

Knowing the password, I was granted access. I am now quite grateful that I know all the previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts and their portraits. However, there was only one I needed to speak with this evening.

"Headmaster Dumbledore are you awake?" I ask the seemingly sleeping figure in the portrait I am facing.

"Miss Granger, I was merely resting my eyes," my former headmaster replies with that famous twinkle.

"Sir, I was wondering if you were interested in helping Harry and me with a bit of a situation." I ask him.

The portrait gives me a childlike smile in return. I take this as a yes and outline our situation and plans. The twinkle in the portrait's eyes simply grows.

"Should my involvement become known to our current Headmistress, I believe I shall be quite glad I am merely a portrait," he laughs.

With that acceptance, the last actor has their part and the play is about to begin. Let the curtain rise on Act I.


	16. Act I

_Silence is text easy to misread._

_A.A. Attanasio_

Later that evening, Harry snuck to my rooms. After we both did some of the preparatory work for the coming day's classes, we settled on to the sofa.

"Mione, if this is going to become a routine for us, would you mind if I changed a few things about this sofa?" Harry asked.

"Well, what are you thinking?"

"Here, get up for a minute," Harry said. After I stood up and he got out his wand, he started to perform a few charms and transfiguration spells. When he was done, the sofa was significantly deeper, much plusher, and had a variety of comfortable cushions strewn about it.

"Perhaps you should go into interior design?" I suggest with just the right amount of sauciness to my voice.

He gave me a bit of a glare before pulling me into a kiss and then quite literally tossing me onto the sofa. It is my turn to glare.

"How did your meeting with Minerva go?" Harry asked.

"Oh, she just wanted to make sure that everything was going fine with the Gryffindors and so forth," I reply. "I tried to watch her for any telltale signs of interest in more than work related issues, but she is a difficult face to read. She never once asked about you or how my free day went."

"Well, three can play that game. We'll just follow her lead and pretend as if nothing did happen."

"Harry, this is going to be difficult. The level of subterfuge in this little plan is astronomical," Harry started to laugh as I spoke. "Harry, this isn't funny!"

"Mione, do you realize that the more worried you are, the larger the words you use?" Harry laughed. "Don't worry. We had to do much more difficult acting in the past. I seem to remember your first stellar acting performance in a certain incident involving a troll and several teachers about to put Ron and me in detention until we were thirty. You came out with a phenomenal act at that point and it was all extemporaneous. Now you have a partner in crime and a clue as to what to say in advance. Everything will be fine," Harry soothed me as he pulled me into his lap and began smoothing my hair.

The next morning as the sun rose, so did the curtain on our little comedy of errors. Act I was set to begin, of course for those who were our unwitting audience, the performance would appear one of drama and distress until somewhere near the end of Act III.

As Harry had left late the night before, this morning I found myself in my own bed. I got dressed in the older robes again and headed to my classroom. I usually get my day organized prior to breakfast. So few students are awake early that it is often the only quiet time I will find until after curfew. The space after breakfast before the first class is often consumed with individuals or small groups coming to me with questions.

Upon entering the Great Hall through the side door closest to my classroom, I took note of those already eating. I saw that the three Gryffindors were already there, attempting nonchalant glances around the room. Nicholas really is like Ron, when he saw me enter he elbowed Anthony so hard that the poor boy yelped and all hope of subtlety was lost. I feigned ignorance of the whole episode as I took a seat with the other professors. I sat in an empty seat between two colleagues. Over the next few minutes we chatted and I enjoyed a bit of toast and tea.

Harry entered repeated the same process as me, but selected a seat at the opposite end of the staff table. Without any acknowledgement of the other, this movement succeeded in attracting the attention of most of the professors, including Minerva, and enough of the observant students. The students who noticed this first scene in our play quickly began the ever dependable gossip chain at Hogwarts. Things were going perfectly to plan. I hate when Harry is right. The staff was much more subtle. A few cast glances at the two of us. Minerva avoided the issue entirely. Most of the staff, I believe, was unsure of what to do or say. Few themselves are married and even fewer know how to deal with the trials and tribulations of young adults.

When I was finished with my meal I walked directly past Harry without any acknowledgement again, and went to find the Gryffindor prefects. This move got the attention of just about everyone in the room. Normally I would curse how much attention Harry and I receive, and Ron when he is around, as a result of our past. Now everyone's fascination with the Golden Trio is working to our advantage.

Throughout the next several days Harry and I continue acting as if the other does not exist. No one says a word to us about this huge shift in our friendship. They just watch with rapt attention.

Finally we come to Friday evening. After a week of our charade, everyone knew something had occurred to drive a wedge between Harry and me. No one had an inkling what this something was. Ron will help with that little problem later. After curfew passed and even most professors were asleep, Harry came to my room as usual.

"Mione, love, you awake still?" Harry asks as he comes in and sees me curled on the sofa under a blanket.

"Mmhmm," I murmur. I am really only half awake and it is so delightfully cozy under this blanket. Knowing it could be even cozier, I pull back the edge of the blanket and smile at Harry all the while keeping my eyes closed. He can be a sharp lad and figures out what I am saying. He sits down and rearranges the blanket and me so that my new pillow is his chest and the blanket is keeping both of us warm now. I am quite ready to fall asleep. With the curtain rising on act one, scene two of our farce tomorrow morning will prove quite eventful. I think Harry wants to talk or some such nonsense, but I fall sound asleep before he has a chance.

Saturday morning dawned bright and cold. Such is the norm this time of year and creates a striking scene for the day. I wake first and wake Harry with a light kiss on his nose. He smiles before he fully wakes.

"Come, Harry, today is the day! Wake up! You have to go and get ready. And I have to don my costume," I really am becoming much too caught up in this theater analogy.

"Just a few more minutes Mione?" he mumbles.

I just get up, pull the blanket off him. As I am halfway finished in folding it he gets up and continues some inarticulate grumblings.

"My, my, aren't we chipper this morning?" I tease.

All I get in response is a low growl until he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. "Much better," I comment as he kisses my neck. "Now go and get ready!"

"Bossy know-it-all," he teases before one last kiss and his disappearing under the invisibility cloak.

I start humming to myself as I go to get ready for the day. My costume consists of the 'new' robes and well coiffed hair. Since I normally go to Hogsmeade with the students my presence is expected. However my presence in the fashionable robes and styled hair will be noted. Today is not my day to serve as a chaperone so I am able to amble in to the pub without any suspicious glances or qualms of shirking my duties.

The barkeep serves me a warm drink to thaw my fingers and I enjoy it slowly over the course of the next half hour. I was a bit early in arriving. Finally I see the telltale long red hair of my closest female friend.

"Mione, there you are!" Ginny waves from the entry way as she begins peeling off the layers of warmth she was bundled in to combat the chill day. "How are you? I haven't seen you in this past age!" She comes up and gives me a huge hug. She motions to the barkeep for another round and settles into the seat opposite mine. A brief wink is all that betrays this little play.

For another half hour or so we continue on with mindless chatter about the Weasleys, Ginny's life as an old married woman, the latest gossip from our Hogwarts friends, and other nonsense. Neither of us are particularly interested in the subject matter, but we keep up the façade. Finally, at the same moment we notice a man walk in and scan the crowd. He has dusty blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and is nearly as tall as Ron. Ginny raises her brow at me and smirks. I reply with my best impression of Minerva's condescending look.

The young man walks over to our table. "Hello ladies, its busy here today, isn't it?" he asks in a rich baritone voice. "It seems that there are no open chairs other than at your table, might I join you for a while to warm myself?" He is all that is gallant and polite.

"Of course," Ginny says. "It's always pleasant to make a new acquaintance. I'm Ginny and this is my friend Hermione."

"A pleasure ladies, I am James," he says as he greets each of us formally with a slight bow of the head. Really, it was much as one would expect from a regency novel. I found myself enjoying his attentions and his conversation was quite interesting.

Ginny got up from her seat soon after the handsome gentleman joined us and excused herself saying she needed to be returning home. We made arrangements to meet again the next Hogsmeade weekend; it really was our only chance to see each other during the academic year. I was now left alone with the charming James. For over two hours we sat and talked as we sipped our drinks. Often our chat was interspersed with laughter as we ever so gradually slid our chairs closer and closer. By the end of the two hours our seats were nearly touching at the corner of the table. Our elbows, arms, hands, shoulders constantly brushed as we gestured as we talked. Every so often as I looked around the room I saw more students filter in as they finished their shopping for sweets, treats, and practical joke materials. Many found interest in the goings on at my table. That was fine with me.

As the afternoon wore on I realized it was time for me to return to the school. I told James as much and he kissed my hand and wished me a fine week of class.

"Hermione, if it would not be too troublesome, might I write to you? I know you must be terribly busy with your students and House responsibilities, but I would like to stay in touch," he asked.

I found myself blushing and acquiescing. He draped my cloak over my shoulders and fastened the clasp. I ducked my head and left hoping that the winter wind would give my cheeks the needed excuse for their redness.

I slowly made my way to the castle. Many students were returning as well. Like every Hogsmeade weekend the walk was a time to gossip and share sightings. The acute hearing that any self respecting teacher needs to acquire allowed me to glean that my time in the pub was well documented and a new source of speculation for the students. Being so young and the only professor with an apparent life outside of the castle walls made me an anomaly and a fascinating one at that.

My rooms were warm thanks to the fire. I changed into the older robes again and readied myself for dinner. I went to the Great Hall wondering how scene three of our charade would play out.

Due to an incident involving three fourth years, a fish, two buckets of stink sap, and one bat bogey hex gone terribly awry, I was the last professor to reach the head tables. I took the empty seat next to Minerva. I wondered whether it was purposely reserved for me or just chance. I managed to see that Harry was at the far end of the table.

"Is everything satisfactory, Professor Granger?" asked Minerva.

"Quite. There was a small incident that needed some attention. After seeing Ginny wield the bat bogey hex so effectively, I forget how awful it can be if it goes wrong," I chuckled thinking of that unfortunate fourth year. At least he would reconsider hexing his friends in the future.

I began eating my meal with occasional conversation between Minerva and me. I noticed that the older students were sharing the day's Hogsmeade gossip with the younger children. Most noticeable were the three Gryffindor imps. As a sixth year pointed to me I gathered they were learning of my activities. The three children's eyes became quite wide and hurried harsh whispers flew between them. Next they were asking questions of the friendly sixth year. In turn the sixth year threw a look over to where Harry was and continued talking to the first years. I surmised his day's activities were being recounted.

While children and teenagers can be highly unpredictable many times, there are certain things you can expect from them. Our plan was unfolding thanks to the predictability of their nosiness, good natures, and wish for their plans on life to be the official plans of everyone else. After all, as every adolescent will tell any adult, they know everything and adults just don't get it.

After the meal I had patrols with Professor Flitwick. We chatted about some new theories of charms being developed. Once our rounds were completed, I returned to my chambers to find Harry sitting on the sofa.

"Evening," I said as I entered.

"How were the patrols?" he asked.

"Much less exciting than when we patrolled," I replied.

"I did my own wanderings through the halls this evening with the help of my dad's cloak. I discovered our plans went perfectly. The word spread quite quickly that I spent the day at the twins' shop chatting with them and Ron. All the girls were chatting about the handsome man you spent hours with and how utterly dreamy he is," Harry managed to flutter his eyelashes and pretend to faint on the sofa as he finished his report.

"Honestly, you are too much!"

"I may be, but you know you love it," he grins.

I throw a cushion at his head. "Hey! Careful! Watch the glasses!"

"Harry Potter if you don't know how to repair your own glasses at this point in your life than you are utterly hopeless," I sigh.

After a few minutes of chatting, Harry sneaks back to his rooms. I prepare myself for the coming day and work on a few extra credit essays.

The next day over breakfast, I receive my first owl from James. The rust colored owl swooped in after most of the students received their letters and packages. The timing ensured most everyone saw the owl carefully land next to me. As I read the letter I felt a blush creep up my cheeks and a small smile form on my lips.

Minerva was walking past me just as I finished the letter. "I hope that was a pleasant letter, Professor Granger."

"Yes, it was. Just a note from a new acquaintance I made," I answer as I get up from my seat to go to my office.

As today is Sunday, the halls are fairly quiet and my classroom free of chaos. My mind has free reign to enjoy the moment of satisfaction found in a well laid plan working out perfectly.

Over the next several weeks, the pattern continues. I am seen around Hogsmeade with James. Harry is seen on those same days at the joke shop or around the halls of Hogwarts. Blush causing notes find their way to me several mornings each week. A few small trinkets occasionally accompany them. Harry and I are never seen together within the halls of Hogwarts. The gossip flies so thick between students and even the faculty that you nearly choke on it as you walk the halls.

"Who is that man Professor Granger sees all the time?"

"Do you think they'll get married? Do professors ever get married?"

"Can you believe that it has been two months since anyone has seen Professor Granger and Professor Potter speak to each other?"

"I saw Ron Weasley and his sister Ginny sitting with Professor Granger and that man. They were all getting along really well. It was weird without seeing Professor Potter there. What could possibly split up the Golden Trio?"

As the curtain set on the end of Act One, the last days of February went by in cold and snow and March began with hints of spring. Our audience was intrigued and wild speculation flew. Our four busybodies and their house elf assistant were befuddled and worried. Harry and I were quite content and well poised to begin the second act of our pretense.


	17. Act II

_Beware the ides of March._

_Shakespeare_

_Julius Cesar_

Harry should rue the day he proposed this little play we were in the midst of acting. It has reminded me of my deep love of theater, the non-musical kind. Now my volume of the complete works of Shakespeare has taken up residence next to _Hogwarts, A History_ on the table in my sitting room. Various lines from Shakespeare's works have wound their way into my vocabulary. If only a few of my former classmates were around I could make good use of some of those pithy insults.

Then again, I am getting more and more frustrated with out sneaking around the castle and pretending to be strangers when we are in public. It is one thing to ignore your enemy, which is a skill acquired through years of dealing with my classmates who were in Slytherin. It is a whole different case to ignore the man you love. Especially when the man you love is currently helping out with some first years out on the Quidditch pitch. Especially when your sitting room window faces the Quidditch pitch and you have a perfect view of how incredibly handsome he looks soaring through the air. Especially when he has a seemingly infinite source of patience as he attempts to help some particularly clumsy eleven year olds to fly. Some of those kids make Neville's first attempt at flying look like moves from the Quidditch World Cup.

I let a sigh escape and pull my hair back with a tie as I ready myself to go tutor a few students. As I stride down the hall my frustration helps with my need to appear moody, depressed, and resentful. I am all those things, just not for the reason that everyone expects. A sigh escapes my lips and a smile sneaks up on me as I realize tomorrow is a Hogsmeade day. At the very least two days with no classes will be a nice break. I have a busy social calendar this weekend and there will be some stellar performances.

The next morning I was awake and ready long before the first students. This is another week where I am free to spend the day as I please since I am not officially responsible for the students in Hogsmeade. The day has the promise of being much more pleasant, more a May day, than the middle of March sort of day. I thought for a few moments as I stared at my wardrobe choices. With the mild temperatures and the bright sunrise just out my window I select a shorter, spring inspired robe I purchased last time I was in Diagon Alley. I had yet to wear it. Knowing it was still March, I gather my cloak along with other items I would need that day. After arranging my clothes and such, I sit down to do a bit to my hair and make up. After all, an actress cannot take the stage without the proper hair and make up. Five minutes later I am ready to break a leg. I know, five minutes is not that long. I'm an amateur, not a diva.

The walk to Hogsmeade is glorious. The breeze is cool so I am glad I brought my cloak. It is also silent, except for the various noises of nature. It is not often I am able to enjoy the absence of youthful exuberance, fights, whines, giggles and such. I truly don't mind, but sometimes I just need quiet or adult conversation. However, adult conversation was not likely to be found at my destination.

"Hermione! Ready to be the new test subject for our latest sweet?" George asks as I enter his shop.

"George, I have known you far too long to accept any food or gift from you without a thorough examination to remove any unwanted charms, hexes, curses, or potions. Since I really don't want to take the time, I will pass on whatever you might feel like offering me," I grin in reply.

"My dear George, how little faith the lady has in us! Such a tragedy!" Fred melodramatically waifs into the room.

"Will you two gits calm down already? How you've ever managed to be helpful to us this far is utterly beyond me!" Ginny sighed as she follows Fred into the room.

"Harry here yet?" I ask.

"Yup, hidden in the back room so our little party will appear to only have four in attendance. So now that we have put on a warm welcoming show for any up this early, let's adjourn to the back for some tea," George says with a surprisingly good impression of a certain former Minister of Magic.

"Don't worry, I brought the tea and Harry brought the scones. The food and tea set is perfectly normal," Ginny says as she takes my arm and leads me to the back.

The twins' shop has a back store room area without any windows so we are able to have a conspirators' meeting without fear of being seen. I sit down next to Harry and give him a kiss on the cheek. He drapes his arm over the back of my chair and I lean into him.

"Come on guys! You're as bad as mum and dad!" Fred complains.

"We haven't even had breakfast yet and we have to deal with all this lovey dovey stuff," George continues. "There should be laws against this rubbish."

"If you two do not stop your complaints not only will I hex you but I think that two certain former Gryffindor chasers will love to hear about your thoughts on romance and such. They might not be as friendly next time the four of you go out on a Friday evening." Bless you Ginny, I thought as she firmly puts the twins in their place.

Ginny pours tea for everyone and Harry grabs scones for everyone while I begin our meeting.

"Today we need to move to the next phase of our little plan. There is a good amount of tension in the school as everyone is wondering what is going on with the two of us. I have even noticed Minerva staring at me when she doesn't realize I am looking at her. The three little Gryffindors are paying more attention to my moods and mail than my class," here I am interrupted by the twins laughing.

I shoot them a look. They know better than to voice whatever thought they just shared.

"Continuing, without interruption," another look to the twins.

"She looks just like McGonagall when she does that," Fred whispers to George.

"Honestly, you two!" All my admonishment accomplishes is pulling yet another smirk from each of the Weasley twins. I should know better than to think that those two could behave themselves.

"Moving on, here's the plan…"

Thirty minutes later we all have our roles, costumes, and places. Ginny and I walk arm in arm down the street towards our favorite haunt. As we enter the pub we took our customary seat and proceed to have our routine girl talk over a late breakfast. On cue, James enters and immediately finds us. He crosses the pub with the eyes of every student watching his every move. A small smirk crossed his face as he leans down to kiss my cheek.

"Good morning ladies," he greets us. "It is a pleasure to see you today…." We continue in conversation until Ginny excuses herself claiming she is needed at home.

When she left I look up at James. We have a brief conversation with our eyes. He takes my hand and leads me from the pub. Hand in hand we wander around Hogsmeade. One would have thought we were an exact replica of Fluffy with the stares we are receiving from passersby.

After a few hours of our wanderings, we decide to walk back to Hogwarts. The students do not even try to hide their stares at this point. Their dowdy Transfiguration Professor is being escorted back to the castle on the arm of a tall, handsome, and completely charming man. I do not speak to James and he had nothing of importance to share with me so the walk is a silent one, but not uncomfortably so.

At length we reach the main doors to the school. James stops and pulls me around to face him.

Looking me directly in the eyes, he says, "Hermione, I love our time together. You are such a wonderful, talented witch." He looks a bit sheepish as he asks, "May I kiss you?"

I nod and just as he lowers his head down to mine, he is ripped away. I look around, startled as I draw my wand from the pocket of my cloak. Before I can do anything, James is spun around to face his attacker. I gasp as I see Harry's face as he pulls his arm back and quite expertly punches James square in the jaw. Harry pulls back again, this time bringing his fist into full contact with James' nose.

My voice comes out strangled, "Harry! Stop that! Stop it now! What do you think you are doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he says before stalking off back into the castle.

James is standing there shocked that Harry Potter just thrashed him. His nose was bleeding and there was already discoloration around his jaw line. I never knew Harry had it in him. I had seen him do battle before, but always with a wand and always in-self defense.

"James, James," I lightly touch his shoulder. "Are you alright? Silly question, of course you're not alright. Do you want to come in and I can take care of you with a few healing charms?"

"No," he says with hesitation. "I think I'll just be going now. Goodbye Hermione." He walks back towards the village. I watch his retreating form, not fully taking in the audience of students and not a few staff that we had acquired.

"Professor Granger, might I see you in my office? Now," comes a stern voice from the entryway behind me.

I turn and see Minerva standing there. I had a flashback to the first time I saw her as I was a first year gathered in the side room waiting to enter the Great Hall for the Sorting. Somehow I feel just like an eleven year old all over again. That is not a good feeling.

I follow the stern footsteps of Minerva through the halls without making eye contact with anyone around me. The gossip spreads much faster than we walk as the whispers seem to fly in front causing students to turn and stare as they spoke in hushed tones. When we reach her office, Minerva says the password and leads the way into the rooms. Her silence is not good, not good at all. I begin to twist my hands around the cords of my cloak, fidgeting worse than a small child. Minerva nods to a chair as she takes her seat behind her desk. She never sits behind her desk when we speak; I am most uncomfortable at this point.

"Hermione, that display was appalling. I realize you are significantly younger than most of your peers, but you do still have to set a good example for the other students. I know you are not fully responsible for the entire scene, but you should know better."

"How was I to know Harry would come charging out of the castle like an avenging angel bent on maiming a perfectly innocent gentleman?" My tone of voice is far less than respectful and not a little bit indignant. "You know how impetuous that boy can be!"

"And how oblivious you can be," Minerva mutters under her breath. I am just able to catch it, but decided it is not worth taking that tangent.

"Very well, I realize I need to speak to Harry about this matter as the majority of the responsibility lies with him. That will be all," she dismisses me with all the formality of my former days as her student.

I trudge back to my chambers, exhausted, annoyed, and flustered. Skipping the evening meal would play well with the day's events and I just did not have the energy to contend with all the students and staff. Once I enter my rooms I peeled my cloak off and walk to my bedroom. I just put on the ever famous flannel pants and an old Quidditch jersey. After all these years of friendship with Harry and Ron I had acquired more than a few of their cast-off clothes. If asked, I would say something non-committal, but the fact of the matter is that it was comforting. Thus I chose to wear one now.

I took a seat on the sofa with _Hogwarts, A History_ knowing I need to lighten my mood and stress level. After finishing about a third of the book, Harry came in to the room quite quietly.

"I know you're there. You know you can't sneak up on me," I said.

"A guy can still hope," he says with a small smile. "How are you doing? If you're talk with McGonagall was half what mine was you must be stressed and worried right now."

I look up at Harry. I don't know why I was surprised, but it was one of those moments where I really see him. His hair is a hopeless bird's nest of tangles. His glasses are reflecting the fire light and his eyes shine behind the images of the flames. His hands re in his pockets of the Muggle jeans he is wearing. The white button down shirt is no longer tucked in and is as rumpled as his hair. But his words and the expression of love and worry in his eyes betray his youthful experience. Somehow, that bedraggled boy I met all those years ago on the train became this man who had been through the worst things imaginable yet is so full of love, compassion, understanding, loyalty…how did he end up standing in my rooms looking at me like that?

"Mione, are you alright?" he asks as his brows furrow.

"Hmm?" I reply until my brain processed his question. "Oh, yes, I'm fine. I was just caught up in my thoughts." I smile slightly as I say this.

"And what might those thoughts be?" he asks having seen my expression.

"Just about the most charming, wonderful man of my acquaintance." Honestly, was he expecting anything other than a pert response?

"Who? I'll have to go and beat him to a pulp. I'm all warmed up after all." He adjusts his stance to look more imposing. It almost worked, except for his smile and his eyes were too soft. When he is truly mad or ready for a fight they become cold and hard, like the emeralds so many of my classmates would compare his eyes to when they gossiped in the dorms at night.

"Well, you see, he is terribly handsome though his hair is dreadful. Handsome though he is, it is his charm and personality that caught me," here I wink and Harry laughs. He moves forward a few paces to stand quite close to me.

"What else is so special about this bloke?" Harry asks.

"He lets me boss him around most of the time, but he is one of the few people who can tell me what to do, successfully. He is an incredibly talented wizard. He is a kind, loving, wonderful young man," I think I reached the point where Harry had enough of this game.

As I finished my thought he pulled me into his arms and kissed me with such softness and depth of feeling. I melted.

"I think that bloke thinks you're pretty spectacular too. Especially since you are one of the reasons why he turned out the way he did and managed to avoid getting killed in all those childhood adventures," he softly smiles as he whispers this.

Harry carries me over to the couch and settls us on it. We sat in silence with our thoughts for quite some time.

After quite a while, Harry broke the quiet, "So today was quite the day?"

I chuckle. "I guess so. I wonder if they will ever figure out our ploy or will we get the pleasure of enlightening them?"

"Oh, I think it is safe to say that after the scolding I got from Minerva that she has no clue as to the truth of the situation. After our little meeting, I hovered near her office, under the cloak of course, and saw Anthony, Miranda, and Nicholas enter her rooms with the help of Dobby."

"I wonder what they are discussing right now?"

"I bet they are no where near as comfortable with the situation they are in as we are right now," Harry said as he draws me a bit closer to him.

"Quite right," I agree. We both let the warmth and comfort overtake our senses as the exhaustion of the day sinks in to our very cores. Before long I feel Harry's breathing change indicating he has fallen asleep. I soon follow.

Hours later I am woken up from my sleep. For a fraction of a moment I am thrown back to that era of Horacrux hunting. Harry was tossing about causing me to nearly fall off the sofa and the old worries over him return as if they had never left and Voldemort was still alive.

"No! No! Stop! You can't do that!" Harry screamed out in his sleep. No, Merlin, not more nightmares. He hadn't had them in over a year.

"Harry," I keep saying his name softly and as soothingly as possible as I shake him. I know that when he comes out the dream he will have no clue who I am and where he is for a moment. It takes some time to wake him, enough time for me to relive some of those moments of doubt, fear, terror, horror, death, and darkness from all those years ago. Most people's nightmares are creations of their deepest fears or worst imaginings. Our nightmares are from our past where we lived through our deepest fears and dreadful events we never could have imagined. Life goes on, but so do the memories. We have more than our share of dark memories. Most of the time they are obscured by the life we have built and the love and light that surrounds us now. However, few know that the Golden Trio suffers from the war still. At last Harry finally emerges from his dream.

For a moment he looks around, confused, frightened, and with eyes of ice. Then his roaming eyes find mine. They instantly soften. I know it was another nightmare. The only question in my mind is which one. We saw so much to cause nightmares during our childhood and Harry lived a nightmare for nearly ten years before that. While the dreams were fewer now, they still haunted him. I wait, holding him, until he is ready to speak. To anyone else I know he would brush off the nightmare, but I know he will want to talk and have quite a bit to say to me. After many minutes his shivering and breathing calm. Soon his arms are wrapped around me and I can feel him take a few deep, steadying breaths.

"I manage to go for days now without thinking about the war or the battles we fought. Then, just as I feel normal, these nightmares creep up on me and remind me that I am any thing but normal. That I did things no one has done before and that most people don't even think are possible. I am reminded that I have no family. That my school years were spent battling evil people, evil things, and people who ignored that evil. That people died because Voldemort wanted me dead. That people died because I couldn't figure out how to kill him. That I killed him. I know it's messed up and I know I did what have to be done, but there's a big difference between knowing something and believing it with your heart."

I hold him closer as he speaks. I know what it is like. "Harry, I was there. I was at times a victim and at times the warrior. Just like you. Yes, you did extraordinary things, but you did them with goodness and love in your heart. Those people died for the same reason you fought. They wanted light and love and goodness to survive and thrive in this world. And don't you dare say you don't have family. It may not be by blood, but you have the Weasleys; you're on the clock. That clock won't let just anyone be added to it. And you have me. As long as you need me, I'll be your family." For some reason I can not fathom, a single tear slowly falls down my cheek.

"Hermione, you have to be the only woman on the face of this earth who understands me. And who is willing to put up with me. You are the only one besides Ron who was with me through all the hell I had to go through and all the joys and embarrassments of growing up in between the chaos. Unlike Ron, though, you understood at a deeper level. He was loyal even if he didn't understand or have everything figured. You understood why I needed to do things and understood how I had to deal with the aftermath. You're right, as usual, I do have family. Goodness, if Molly knew I said otherwise I would be flayed alive and served for supper on Sunday afternoon! Ron really is the brother I never had." Here I know he had more to say, but it was as if he doesn't know how to continue.

"Mione, I know things are uncertain and life is a fragile thing. You know that as well as I do. I wonder though, if given all that is broken in my past, whether I can make a whole future. I used to question this, especially when we were in the darkest times of the war. Even when I didn't voice this, you always seemed to sense my thoughts. You would somehow reassure me or bring up the idea of us having a flat together or what we would do the first summer back at the Burrow. You somehow could put that spark of hope and wholeness back into my life when it was on the verge of falling apart.

"Merlin, I can't remember the last time I made a speech like this…"

"I would guess, Harry, it was the last time the Ministry made you accept some award. Should I find something shiny to give you for all your fine words?" I couldn't resist this bit of sarcasm. The endless parades of banquets, receptions, and such rubbish following the Last Battle were utterly ridiculous.

"Shush. I'm not done yet," he says as he presses a finger to my lips. "What I am trying to get at before you so rudely interrupted me is this. You are right, you are my family. And I want you to be my family for a very long time as a matter of fact. I have something I need to ask you…


	18. Act III

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

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What's in a name? That which we call a rose

_By any other word would smell as sweet._

_Shakespeare_

_Romeo and Juliet

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I wonder if Shakespeare had the entire play scripted in his mind before he set his quill to the parchment. As finely tuned as our small play was, it was left to the two stars to disrupt the final act. Though, the adjustment made is such that the grande finale should be quite worth the admission. I continued with my theatrical thoughts as I made my way to breakfast.

I know it is a Sunday after a Hogsmeade day. Thus I have timed my entrance to the usual time when the majority of students and staff are awake and enjoying their morning meal. I casually open the door to the Hall and glide in to my seat. My entrance is of little note to the tired students and the relaxed staff. Slowly though a few begin to take note. My wardrobe has shifted back into the newer robes and my hair is flowing down my shoulders instead of being restrained in a tight braid or bun. It is none other than Flitwick who makes the startling discovery of what is so fundamentally different about me this morning.

However, his surprise leads him to a flurry of stutters and palpitations. His state is such that he topples over the chair and lands on his back. As I go to help him all attention is now focused on the pair of us. As if she knows it is her cue, Minerva rushes over to assess the situation.

"Professor Flitwick, what is the matter? Have you hurt yourself?" she questions the fluttering little man.

He still can not quite form a coherent response. She motions to Madame Pomfrey. Just before the good nurse begins to take charge of the situation, Minerva spies the culprit of the chaos.

"Why, good heavens child! Where did that come from?" she gasps as a hand covers her heart while the other waves in my general direction.

In a moment that would win awards for my supreme acting ability, I feign unqualified ignorance. "Headmistress, there's nothing new about these robes. You know I purchased them last summer in Diagon Alley." I toss in a wide-eyed glance to ice the cake.

"Not your clothing! That ring!" her words resound through the hall managing to be heard over every conversation of student or faculty. How could she possibly deliver a performance with such fidelity to the script having never read a word of it?

"Oh, well, that is new. From yesterday actually," I say with no further clarification. The silence of the Hall is fantastic. Every eye is on me and the headmistress as the charms professor continues to lie on the ground. "That reminds me, I need to go write to my mother. If Professor Flitwick is quite alright, I do hope you'll excuse me."

I do not wait for Minerva to respond. I flounce my way out of the Hall leaving the Headmistress of Hogwarts standing with a gaping mouth and a hand fluttering as if waving in dismissal. As soon as the door shuts behind me I hear the Hall erupt with conversation, speculation, and the usual chaos that new gossip creates.

I have some essays to grade so I make my way towards my office. I settle into my usual routine knowing it is only a matter of time before someone interrupts me with no intention of asking a question about any of the transfiguration assignments. For an hour or so I corrected second years' essays. I was just about to start the third years' when I was interrupted.

"Professor Granger, might you have time to help us?" comes a timid voice belonging to none other than Miranda. Imagine my lack of surprise.

"Of course, please come in. How may I help you this morning?" I reply.

"Well, we were working on our essays and found this a bit tricky," Nicholas says as he points to a section of his messy parchment.

"I would be happy to help you, Mr. Ravel. However, yet again I am unable to read your essay. Would you be so kind as to translate these blotches into words for me?" I ask. The boy has turned in more illegible essays than Fred, George, and Ron combined ever could have.

As he peers at his parchment with a folded brow, Miranda and Nicholas proceed to poke and whisper to each other. I can only assume the next one's lines have been forgotten and they are trying to put off me shooing them out of my classroom.

"Children, it is obvious that you have some ulterior motive to coming to me today. As Mr. Ravel clearly has no idea what is on his parchment, and you two, Mr. Lewis and Miss Hart, have some other more important business, I suggest you share your thoughts with me."

The cast glances at each other to determine who is the unlucky to speak. Unsurprisingly, Anthony speaks.

"You see, Professor Granger, we couldn't help but notice what went on at breakfast and we just were wondering if …if Professor Flitwick was okay?" he quickly found an excuse.

"I can assure you your charms professor is quite fine and will be able to continue with his instructions tomorrow. Now if that is all?" I dismiss them as I pick up the parchments on my desk again.

"Actually, Professor Granger, might I ask you a question?" Miranda shyly speaks.

"I believe, Miss Hart, that you just did, but you may ask one more before you return to your common room."

"Who gave you that ring? The older students were telling us of some man they have seen you with in Hogsmeade and I was wondering if that was who gave you the ring." She speaks so quickly and runs out of breath before the end of her request.

"Contrary to popular belief, we professors do have lives and we do like to keep them private from the students. I am sure in time that question will be answered and likely by me. However, I will not answer it at this point in time. Now, on with you!"

Apparently years of watching Minerva perfect her stern demeanor pay off as the three students scuttle off with a bit of trepidation. A voice comes from over my shoulder, "They are heading to Minerva's office. I believe there will soon be a scene unfolding there. I always knew Minerva was a matchmaker. I never thought she would work in conjunction with the students. I'm off then."

The painted image of my first headmaster walks through the landscape in the frame behind my desk and makes his way back to his former office where his portrait hangs.

I have so much to do and this fiasco is taking up so much time. I proceed to work on the essays and lesson plans for the week for another hour or so. Finally the image of Dumbledore reappears in my office.

"You will soon be summoned. Minerva's frustration and curiosity are being pushed to their limits. Gives new meaning to curiosity killed the cat…." He gets that twinkle again and seems to remember something that I am sure is none of my business. "Those four, and Dobby of course, are mystified by your ring and what to do with this recent turn of events. By the way, excellent work with that ring, Miss Granger. Nice bit of spell work, to cover something with that much magic inherent within it takes quite a bit of skill." He winks as he says, "I will be off to do my share in this intrigue then." He drifts away to another portrait as he finishes his sentence. I am unable to ask him anything more.

As I shake my head in minor frustration, Minerva enters my office. "Professor Granger, would you accompany to my office? I would like to have a chat with you regarding some house issues."

Students are milling about or hurrying through the halls so we do not speak on the way to her office. She speaks the password and we ascend the staircase. We walk through the alcove into her sitting room adjacent to the office. With a wave she motions me to the seats near the hearth. I surmise this is to be an informal discussion.

"Hermione that was quite the display this morning at breakfast. It seems whenever a meal is interrupted at this school it is either the direct result or cause of some misadventure for you," she takes a sip of tea from the tray that had appeared on the low table in front of us as she gave me an appraising glance. "It is not easy to forget the night that the Golden Trio was formed."

"Honestly, Minerva, will I ever be able to live that down? Between Harry, Ron and you, I am teased about that night far more than I deserve."

"It is not every day that the ever wise and knowledgable Hermione Granger makes a mistake. Those of us who are mere morthals must make full use of those moments of misbehavior," here she hovers over her cup of tea and glances into its small pool of liquid as she ponders her next words. "I wonder the wisdom of your recent actions…"

Minerva, who normally speaks with such authority, trails off at the end of her thought. As she was scrupulously focuses on her tea, I can not gather whether her hesitation is due to doubts, fear of my reaction, or some other undecipherable thought.

"What, Headmistress, are you hinting at?"

"Hermione, dear, I have known you longer and better than most any other student to pass through these halls. You have become more than a student or colleague to me. I care for you like a granddaughter. It would pain me to see you make a mistake that would haunt you for years to come." She sets her teacup down as she makes this speech.

"I can assure you that I know full well what I am about and that this mistake, as you call it, is the best decision I have ever made in my life." I draw my back even straighter and keep my eyes trained on hers. Her eyes never leave my own.

"Dear, you are young; you have had to grow up so quickly and lost so much innocence. There are few who could possibly fathom what you have done, seen, and survived. There are few who can match your intelligence and wit. You are a rare girl, dear, and contrary to the image I present outside these tête-à-têtes, it would pain me to no end to see you misunderstood, mistreated, or in any way unhappy."

"Such warm words would shock most of my classmates, Minerva. I know, and I truly do appreciate all you have done for me over the years," I pause as I take her hand and give it a small squeeze. "I can truly say that the one who gave me this ring knows exactly what I have done, seen, and survived. The person is the only one with whom I can possibly envision living long into the future with, not just surviving that which haunts me from my past. He can match my wit and intelligence. He can make me relax and have fun, something both you and I need help remembering to do. Minerva, he is the only one for me." I finish quietly and fold my hands in my lap.

"If that is the way you feel, then there is nothing I can do but wish you all the blessings and joys that you deserve," she rises to hug me.

"Actually, Minerva, there are a few more things she needs you to do," a low voice comes from behind the Headmistress.

The voice was none other than George Weasley who stands next to quite the crowd of people. George and Fred flanked Ginny and Ron who all sport guilty grins and sparkling eyes.

"Well, I never! How did you? Where did you? What are you doing here children?" she sputters this all out in a jumble. I had never seen the indubitable Minerva McGonagall so unnerved.

"Of course you had never, Minerva, you were far too good a student to explore the hidden passageways of this old castle. In fact, even the Marauders and these young troublemakers missed a few corridors, most importantly the one that leads into your entryway."

"Albus! Whatever are you doing? Allowing them to sneak about the school when they are not even students!" The Headmistress is positively agog at this moment. Four former students and the former Headmaster are all involved in some coordinated mischief.

"At this point Headmistress, I think you need to worry about these students and that meddlesome house elf," comes Harry's voice from the stairway. "Isn't there an old adage about those who live in glass houses should not cast stones?" In front of his stern visage are three Gryffindor first years and a sheepish house elf. Anthony, Nicholas, Miranda, and Dobby all have equal looks of dread on their faces.

"It seems that you soon may need a larger office," Dumbledore comments from his portrait with twinkling blue eyes to match the Weasleys.

There, in a moment, in an office stood ten , a house elf, and a portrait all with schemes. Four of those people, and Dobby, were utterly confused. Four looked like the cat that ate the canary. Two had perfectly neutral faces. The portrait had managed to combine the amused twinkle with a face a professional gambler would find unreadable.

The Headmistress must know she is the one who is supposed to take control of the situation. However, at the present moment she is not quite up to the task. Luckily, the Weasleys are never without something to share with the group.

"I say George, this might be a first," says Fred as he crosses his arms.

"Quite right dear brother. Our esteemed headmistress has a situation in front of her," George concurs, mimicking his brother's stance.

"Yes, yes, and from her expression she may finally be catching on to the show," Fred continues.

"Alas, dear Fred, that is not the case. Now dear Headmistress, take a seat. Yes, I think you may need the comfort of that lovely stuffed antique. And you little ones, why don't you find yourselves some seats there at her feet near the hearth?" George continues the monologue done by two. Dobby goes and stands, or rather cowers, in the shadow of Minerva's chair.

"It seems you three children with the aid of your Headmistress and the ever helpful Dobby contrived to put your dear professors Potter and Granger in a potentially volatile situation."

"Trust us, we know what her temper and hexes can do when provoked," George interrupts.

A brief look passes between the two as an unpleasant memory is relived. Fred continues, "Yes, we are well aware of the little situation that was arranged several months ago."

"Actually, we all are quite aware of this little bit of information," chimes in a more feminine voice.

The four near the hearth turned to see a sight that had quelled some of the darkest and most powerful wizards. The Golden Trio with Ginny stand with stern expressions and the self-assurance that comes from knowing you can handle anything. Of course knowing exactly what is going on when others don't can contribute to that remarkable air.

"Being both a Weasley and Hermione's closest female friend I became embroiled with this little escapade and can safely say that for several months now the greatest prank that Hogwarts have ever witness has been performed," Ginny says with a smirk muck like her twin brothers'.

Here the Headmistress of Hogwarts and the Heirs of Gyrffindors' Greatest Pranksters look utterly befuddled. An expression they are quickly becoming familiar with expressing.

As the two that are the center of the show we decide to take over the conversation.

"You see, we figured out fairly quickly that the little stunt involving the Room of Requirement was completely orchestrated by these three Gryffindors. However, as Hermione was quick to point out, they could not accomplish it alone. A bit more thought and we determined that only the assistance of a loyal house elf and the ever talented former transfiguration professor turned Headmistress could accomplish the details beyond a first year's abilities."

"Harry is quite right. It was obvious Dobby helped with the food and so forth while you, dear Headmistress, took care of those complicated transfiguration spells needed for our robes. After sorting out a few personal things we also felt it was necessary to have a bit of revenge. One good prank deserves another. Thus, we enlisted the help of Hogwarts' greatest pranksters and our two dearest friends," I continue.

"The mysterious man that I have spent the past several weekends seeing was actually one of several young men. Some tricks, though old and well used, still remain extremely effective," I smirk. "Some simple glamour charms and the small fact that Ron, George, and Fred are all within a hairsbreadth of the same height made the ruse quite simple. Those not playing my love interest worked with Harry, Ginny, and Ron to ensure that Harry was seen about town or timed his arrival on the scene perfectly. A few times when it worked out we even were able to have Harry play his own rival. The beauty of those instances was no one noticed the height differences and I was able to enjoy his company."

By this time the Headmistress and the three Gryffindor first years are feeling a bit sheepish, a bit ashamed, and a bit intrigued.

"For the last several months you were witness to a wonderful drama," George finishes.

"We hope you enjoyed it," Fred tacked on his opinion.

"Very well," Minerva is not about to admit defeat or apologize. It is her sanity at stake when the whole fiasco began. "Now tell me one thing, Professor Granger, where did you acquire that charming ring on your left hand?"

Here, all the Weasley boys, Ginny, and the first years turn with great attention to hear my answer.

"As I told you earlier, it is something I acquired yesterday." A simple answer for the Headmistress' simple question, but there are exactly two people of the small crowd gathered who know the full answer.

"Hermione Granger I cannot believe you did not tell me! Am I not your best friend? Did you not trust me with this information?"

As Ginny makes her outburst, Ron joins in with, "Harry Potter when were you going to get around with telling me this?"

"Merlin! She sounds just like Mum!"

"Worse than Mum, Fred, I would say. Though Ronny-kins here is quite good at screeching too," George ventures.

"I don't recall saying that this was from Harry," I calmly respond.

"What!" now Minerva is impersonating Mrs. Weasley.

The twins have mutual slack jaws. All in all, I am quite proud of myself. Harry maintains a blank expression giving nothing away. The children are simply confused. Dobby is trying to follow the conversation and determine whether the great Harry Potter needs consolation or congratulations.

Finally I do something that Minerva had never witnessed in all my years as a student in her transfiguration classes. I giggled. At first it was a sort of soft chuckle under my breath. Then it grows into a chortle which slowly begins to choke me until I let it loose into a full-fledged guffaw.

"Charming, Hermione," Ron mutters.

"Honestly, Ron," I manage between gasps for air.

"Point to me, Harry," Ron says.

"I think I'll win this game though Ron since I have the rest of our lives," Harry returns.

"So it is you!" exclaimed Ginny, "Just wait till I tell Mum. Oh, she is going to go crazy. Another wedding to plan. You are going to let her help are you two? I mean, you are family and she thinks of you both as her own kids. Why she would want more, I don't know."

"Ginerva would you please take a breath," Minerva admonishes the rambling redhead. When Ginny stops to breathe, Minerva continued.

"I see that congratulations are in order and I most heartily offer them. You two deserve the best and a bit of peace."

"Something tells me that as long as we continue to be professors here and with our history I highly doubt we will live quietly and in peace," Harry huffs. "However, we have every intention of having the best and happiest life possible."

Here a moment occurs which makes Anthony, Nicholas, George, Fred and Ron all roll eyes and make the ever mature gagging noise. Simultaneously Ginny and Miranda make cooing noises. Minerva manages to find an understated response in the middle, a simple smile.

Harry and I are too busy enjoying a moment of engaged bliss to notice much. As we kiss, Harry passes his hand over the ring and it returns to the original form of his mother's engagement ring.

"Will I ever have a quiet year in this school?"

"Alas, Minerva, I fear that Hogwarts is not conducive to tranquility," chuckles the indubitable Albus Dumbledore.


	19. Postlude

_Disclaimer: Not mine, I don't own anything Harry Potter._

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_Don't ask questions of fairy tales._

_Jewish Proverb

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We were three children, as different as any three people could be, all embarking on a new and unknown adventure. For years we toiled, laughed, fought, and won. With childhoods stolen from us we became adults. We were children surviving in darkness.

Now we are adults, thriving in a world of hope and light. We have our moments; no one who has survived what we have can escape unscathed. But the friendship that was forged all those years ago sustains us in our moments of doubts, fears, and dark memories.

Today though, we are three adults in a day of light and joy. The sun seems to glow with exceptional brightness and the white of my dress seems almost blinding as I make my way out the castle doors. The lake glistens and even the giant squid senses the significance and remains placid below the surface.

One young man stands tall with a mop of bright red hair and a perpetually impish grin. He has seen death yet finds more joy in life than even his prankster brothers. He stands opposite his sister, both my dearest friends. Coming from a home they were sure of, they met uncertainty and the challenges of life head on with optimism and reckless courage. They are my inspiration.

One young man stands, a mixture of joy and nervousness, with black formal robes and a breathtaking smile sent just to me. He never knew love, yet loves with such intensity and trueness that it is nearly overwhelming. His sense of duty, honor, and love drive him to moments where those sensibilities cause him to act with thoughtlessness. Sometimes resulting in great pain to himself, and sometimes resulting in unimaginable joy. He is my heart and soon to be my life.

One young woman walks with little semblance to the girl the two boys met on a train years ago. She is less awkward and her appearance is a bit more refined. Today she walks slowly down the grass covered aisle with smooth curls and light make up. She is still the know-it-all and sometimes a bit unsure of herself. She is the woman I have become.

We were children introduced on a train heading to an unknown future. We are adults forging our lives together. As I take Harry's hand, Ron catches my eye with a wink before he glances at the woman sitting by his mother who I know will soon join our close knit circle. Yes, we were children; now we are adults bound by a past and an unbreakable friendship ready for whatever the future might hold for the Golden Trio.

_A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same._

_Elbert Hubbard_

_With our love, we could save the world._

_George Harrison_

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